


Destiny Lost

by Twisted_Fate_MK2



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy, RWBY
Genre: Adventure, Exploration, I basically Wrote Him as Loki, Supporter Request, Survival, The god of Destruction is Jealous, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2020-02-26 15:18:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 76,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18719710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Fate_MK2/pseuds/Twisted_Fate_MK2
Summary: The Gods left remnant together, with the statement they would never return to it or influence it. Only, that wasn't true, was it? The God of light, ever the hypocrite and liar, didn't abandon Remnant. Instead, he reincarnated someone to do his bidding and bring Remnant to them. Cue, the now dead Pyrrha Nikos and the God of Darkness' ideas. / Supporter Requested by Espacole





	1. Chapter 1

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Official Supporters: 

Grand Priestess, Luna Haile -

 

High Priest, Alvelvnor

Priest, The Impossible Muffin 

Priest, Xager the Chaos King 

Acolyte, Victus 

Acolyte, DigiDemonLord

Acolyte, Stonecold

Acolyte, Espacole

Initiate, Greg Gibson

If you want to be on the Supporter list, PM one of us for details or join our discord. Server ,.for details. Hope you enjoy reading my stories, and remember to post a Review/Comment to let me know what you liked and didn’t. 

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Betas for this story so far :

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Story requested by Supporter :

Acolyte, Espacole

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“Do you believe in Destiny?”

“...Destiny…”

“...Yes.”

“Gah!” She shot awak, eyes squeezed shut just as soon as they’d cracked open once she saw the blinding light of what she guessed was morning. 

Blinded like that and on her back, she flailed weakly and desperately. For her weapons, for a particularly sharp rock, she had no idea, she only really knew for sure that her body burned like it was on fire and her muscles ached into the bone. Her hands found nothing besides steam and water, and she flared her Aura expertly to both protect herself and call on her weapons at the realization. Nothing came, though, and she rolled onto her stomach, forcing her aching, weary limbs to hold herself up and grunting from the effort. 

“You know, watching this is rather funny, but I’m getting bored. So…” The voice was snide, and hisses and clicks undercut each pandering intonation, sickening in the same sense her first bout had been when she’d shattered her opponent’s nose and painted the floor of the Mistralian arena red. 

Her stomach turned then, and turned now as well, but then a strange relief washed over her. Like a cool bath after a long day of training, or a hot meal to end a long day of work. Her muscles eased, her trembling ceased, and the burning fever she felt across her entire body lifted like a veil. Her eyes cracked open again and as soon as the pain of the brightness hit her, the brightness faded. Like shadows cast over wherever the infernal, nigh blinding light came from, dimming it until the formerly bright, noonday light surrounding them had faded to a late evening shade of ruddy oranges and blood reds mingling together into violets and pinks that stretched around her infinitely far.

“Yeah, I suppose even a Human would dislike my brother’s… Aesthetic. Too many bright whites and silvers, eh?” She turned to the voice, now she could see to do so, and recoiled at what she saw, crawling away and falling onto her behind, scrabbling even further while the thing chuckled. Shaking its great, black, horned head the creature sighed, “Ah, you Humans, always such… Amusing and insulting reactions to seeing me.”

The creature towered over her, and would have even if she’d been standing, though it was not a physically imposing creature. Or at least, not in the sense of being muscled and standing straight and taut. Instead, it was thin and wiry looking, with small muscles and horns that curved back and then spined randomly in other directions, like antlers made of the blackest nights she’d lived through, hued a strange purple in a way she couldn’t explain properly. As though it had been made of pure blackness and shadow, and then light burst from it. The result was a violet that at the same time appealed to her somehow, and disgusted her, both deep down inside herself where her more primal emotions lay.

Its posture was as lacking in natural intimidation, shoulders slouched forward and head cocked to the side, inspecting its silvery fingernails as if looking for dirt and not even bothering to meet her fearful, surprised gaze. Somehow, that made it all the more terrifying, for its lack of concern for a trained, adept Huntress sprawled on the ground in front of her. Every inch of it was also unclothed and, while its muscles were well defined and, in a word, flawlessly chiseled, there was no normal beauty to it. Yet even as she observed that, something primal inside her stirred in revulsion and attraction to it.

The emotions all fought inside her head until it felt ready to burst, and the creature snapped its fingers, the emotions suddenly deadening. Like pain felt through adrenaline, echoing in the distance but not truly there any longer.

“Are you quite finished coping with what I look like?” The creature asked snidely, turning pure, bright violet eyes on her. She blinked, mouth opening and closing, and the being sighed almost tiredly, “For the love of the Grimm, you Humans… So caught up in appearances. A wonder your primary conflict is with people having different ears, or some other such nonsense.”

“F-Faunus.” She gasped, pointing a finger at the tall being when its brows rose at the name, “You mean the… The problems with the Faunus. Am I right?”

“Yes, the Demihumans. Er, Faunus I suppose, as you call them now. No matter to me, I suppose, you murder each other regardless of paltry naming conventions. Eh?” The creature laughed then, a normal, barking laugh laced with hatred and derision. Shaking its great, horned head the being turned its eyes on her and asked, “Now, are you quite done reacting to me? I’ve calmed as much of it as I could, but I feel the need to ask.”

“You’ve… Calmed it?”

“Yes, I created those emotions, after all. Fear, rage, lust, pain, all to drive you forward to survive even at the cost of destroying those before you.” The being answered, clicking its ethereal tongue in sudden realization and then snorting, “Ah, you don’t recognize me. Of course not, why would you? My brother, now, he would probably be recognizable. By my illustrious, repudiated, repulsed self? No, never.”

“I don’t-”

“Understand? No, I would wager you don’t. Not yet, I’ll remedy that affliction of ignorance you are suffering under momentarily, though.” The being snorted at the face she made at the remarks, but neither of them commented on it. Instead it made an outlandish, overly and flamboyantly flourished bow and introduced itself in a voice of faux-humility and servility, “I am the Brother of Darkness, Grimm progenitor, derivation source of all the more fun elements of, well, your race, and co-creator of your species. You may call me God, if you wish it.”

“Y-You’re a god?!” She spluttered, managing to half-rise, mouth gaping, at the being as it straightened and nodded. Unsure of what to do at the proclamation, but knowing the truth she’d heard and terrified, she threw herself to the ground, prostrate and afraid. Face pressed to the ground she couldn’t discern, she pleaded, “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t know. I-I could never have reacted like I did if I had, I swear!”

“Ah, much better! But get up, you petty little creature, I didn’t pluck your soul from that literally blasted tower to grovel at my feet. No, I am above such pettiness, even if my wretched brother is not.” She looked up - dared to look up, that was - and met the deific creature’s gaze with a confused one of her own. Finally it tutted and gestured with a finger for her to stand, a command she obeyed dutifully. In a soft tone, like he was afraid to frighten the woman standing before him, the deity explained, “You, my dear, must know something. You are dead.”

All the breath left her lungs in a sudden exhale of shock, the noise sputtering past her lips indignantly in a, “Whumpfl?”

“You Humans tend to die when your chest is, well…” The creature paused and slid a finger down along the center of his chest, above his sternum, and Pyrrha looked at hers in confusion. 

A large, ragged and fleshy hole sat in the center of her chest, the width of her little finger, and in it she could see blood, muscle and broken bone. Around it was a purple bruise, the blood vessels under her skin burts and the muscle understandably abused by the wound’s suffrage. None of which she could feel, somehow, though a glance to the God’s smirking visage told her why that was. And additionally, that she should be very grateful for it, which she knew she couldn’t convey properly in her state of disbelief and shock. Looking back to the wound, her fingers trailed up, between her breasts and pulled them away so she could see it better. 

“T-The arrow. I… I got shot, fighting at Beacon. Protecting Beacon, but...” Her eyes returned to the self-proclaimed God’s face and she swallowed anxiously, hands falling from her leather armor as she remembered what he’d said. “I died. You said I died, and… I have the wound for it, so I suppose I am dead. Aren’t I?”

“Oh yes, very, very dead indeed.” The being shrugged at the proclamation even as Pyrrha’s stomach bottomed out and she recoiled, letting out a shaky breath and hugging herself. Seeing this, the being actually seemed… Unsure, for a moment, and added, “If it matters, what you did saved a lot of lives. Petty, wasteful, doomed little lives, true, but lives nonetheless.”

“I did?” The deity simply nodded, clearly out of his element dealing directly with people. A braver, less inescapably dead, Nikos whose soul didn’t likely sit in the being’s hands might have asked why that was if he was a creator of the species. Happy at the news, the Mistralian champion let out a shaky breath and smiled, murmuring, “Then Jaune is well, and all is not lost, at least.”

“Beacon was, yes, but not everything you would probably care about. Give me a moment…” The being turned aside, eyes flickering and fingers at his side curling, uncurling and flicking, as though it was reading something. Or flipping through something, like she would on a Scroll. Finally, the god turned its gaze on her and explained, sounding bored all the while, “The robot girl is very dead, as you know. And many others died as well, throughout the little Kingdom and your academy both.”

“I see.” She frowned, taking a breath and asking, “And my team? M-My friends?”

“Alive, to the last, though… Scattered, somewhat, and broken in various ways.” Pyrrha wanted to ask more, but didn’t. Afraid of angering the already bored god so graciously answering her questions, when she knew the being was already tired of the questions. “I am, but I will answer regardless. The blonde lost her arm, and the Faunus girl,, Balaclava, Batavia, no... Belladonna? Whatever. She fled for guilt and fear. The rest were scattered into hospitals and, even now, are filtering back together to whatever end they desire.”

“Yang was dismembered?!” She shouted, flinching after a moment and murmuring an, “I-I’m sorry. I was just… Shocked.”

“Indeed she was, and indeed you were.” The being rumbled, sounding demeaningly amused as it did. Head cocked to the side for a moment to regard her, the giant eventually just shrugged. In a lighter, airier, and somehow ever more sinister sounding voice, the being went on, “You see, none of this is the reason you, well, yet exist frankly. My brother and I made an agreement to leave this world bereft of our influence and magic, yet I’m sure you, of all people, are aware magic yet exists.”

“The Maidens.”

“Ah, you are a clever one, aren’t you?” She scowled slightly, before she could catch it and school her expression into something more flat and even, but the god noticed. Chuckling, he nodded his great, violet, horned head and went on, “Yes, child, you are right. The Maidens. A result of my deceitful, oh so beloved brother’s meddlings. We agreed to leave the world you so aptly name as Remnant behind, long ago. I kept that word and, only recently, found out that he did not.”

“The God of Light, yes?” She tried, the God of Darkness nodding his head pleasedly at her guess. “He lies, but you are supposed to be the evil one… Are you not?”

“Just because I am destruction does not make me evil.” The god shrugged, “Or are you evil when you destroy those creatures of mine you call Grimm? Or when soldiers destroy other soldiers? Are they evil? How about those Hunters, as you call them, who go out and destroy entire tribes of nomadic raiders? Even now, these things all happen quite often. Which are evil, then, hm?”

“I don’t-”

“I’m sure you don’t, and it doesn’t matter. I did not pluck your soul from the world at large to debate morality.” She nodded understandingly, and the god spread his arms, like he was presenting a present to her. “Congratulations, young little Huntress! You’re being granted a second chance to live out your life, for my own amusement.”

“I-I am?” A second chance to live? To see Jaune? To fight and protect the people she cared about? It was almost too good to be true, and for a moment, she couldn’t fight the smile that stretched across her face. Head shaking slightly in disbelief, she murmured, “Thank you, God. I… Just thank you, so much. I’m undeserving.”

“Quite right, young Pyrrha Nikos.” The being agreed, lacking any sort of humility, even if according to the deity it held honesty in spades. One virtue was more than enough for a literal god, perhaps, she supposed. Smiling brightly, it added, “And you are to be the first person from your puny, experimental little world to leave the planet and journey to another galaxy! With your mind and powers intact, no less, and the blessings of a god of destruction.”

“I… What?” Leave the planet? Another galaxy? Confused, she asked, “So I am… Not to return to Remnant?”

“Oh, no, of course not. I promised not to interfere in that world after we left and, unlike my brother, I do not lie. I keep my word, unless I’m tricked into giving it.” He snarled that last bit, harsh enough and sudden enough to make the diminutive by comparison woman swallow and step back anxiously. After a moment the great being relaxed and sighed, going on, “No, you died on that world when that witch of a woman shot you. Ah, speaking of…”

The god snapped his fingers and she hissed in pain, blood flowing fresh from the wound and breath fleeing her as she sank to her knees. A hand clutched to her breast, desperately clawing at the fire between her bosom and her heart, and then as suddenly as it came… It went. The blood ceased flowing, bubbled away into the air, and steam emanated from the center of her bust. Looking at it, she saw the wound writhe without feeling, deadened by the god’s magic and wriggling with it. After a moment the skin knit itself together and her breathing evened out and eased, the ache ebbing away as she stared at immaculate, flawless skin. 

“Sorry about that.” The god intoned cheerily, smiling when she looked up at him, “I wanted to heal it, and my healing abilities need time to flow. Which meant your wound had to be allowed to, well… you saw, and I wager you got the gist.”

“I-I do, yes.” Time progressing meant her wound would hurt and, in truth, try and kill her. He’d healed her, though, as readily as he’d relieved her body’s aches and pains from the Vytal Festival and the battle around Beacon before her… Expiration. 

“Anyways, as I was saying, I won’t be sending you there. I keep my word.” Her disappointment must have shown, for the god tutted and rushed to add, haughty and tight but not losing his demeaning, sickening edge all the while, “Now, now, I would think saving lives and exploring a galaxy would be to your tastes. And besides, you’re dead! Beggars can’t be choosers. Er, especially the dead ones.”

“I see.” It was a air point she supposed. “And I suppose my choices are rather plainly ‘Do as I say or I will kill you’?”

“Eh, I would phrase it more as let you die, but…” The god shrugged uncaringly and Pyrrha sighed, avoiding its gaze before her nerves rattled under them again. Even looking at it seemed to rattle something deep in the back of her mind, but looking aside, at the expanse of ruddy colors and dim light, didn’t. “In any event, it’s a win on all sides! I get to watch you thrash your way through a strange new land, and you get to… Exist! Win win, I say.”

“I have a condition.” She said as sternly as she could, managing a bit more than a murmur. Louder, she said, “If I do what you want, you have to give me something in exchange too. Beyond my living, as that is part and parcel of your… Entertainment, I mean.”

“You’re not exactly in a position to negotiate from power, little girl.” The god sneered, the woman grimacing but not deigning to respond. After a moment the deity sighed and pinched the bridge of its nose with the fingers of one hand, the other waving in the air between them dismissively. “Oh… Whatever. Finding another suitable candidate for my viewership would take far too long. What do you want?”

“My weapons and armor, repaired and enchanted with your power. As well as your watching my friends, and offering them whatever little help you can.” She said the words quickly and flatly, meeting the god’s perplexed and amused gaze only after she’d finished. 

The quaking in her knees and the beating of her heart wouldn’t matter now, after all. 

“Oh… Fine, but be warned now and plainly that I can not intervene much on that planet. I will not be empowering anyone, or turning aside blades, or some such other nonsense like that.” She nodded understandingly, satisfied with just having a god watching over her friends, and relaxed. With little showmanship for the matter the god snapped the fingers of each hand, her sword and shield appearing as good as new in the air before her, clattering along the ground. “The weapon has changed to suit where you go. Dust doesn’t exist there, and so a Dust rifle would be of little use. This functions the same, but the ammunition works along local styles. Ammo block, a rare element, you’ll need it all explained to you there. Don’t fret though, I’m… Making arrangements to make that easy enough.”

“I don’t understand-”

“You will once you speak to the mechanical thing. Do try not to let it kill you though, hm? Wasted effort if you do, and no third chances.” She nodded and the god held its hand out towards her, a little ball of purple fire appearing in its palm. Grinning, the god warned, “This will… Sting a bit. Close your eyes.”

She did as she was bade, and hissed as her skin felt as though it had been lit aflame. A moment later it was gone and she fell a few feet, knees giving out in her wide-eyed surprise as she collapsed in a forest clearing, sprawled in the grass. A moment later, her weapons appeared to either side, clattering to the ground to either side of her where she lay. Groaning, the woman rolled onto her hands and knees for a second time and sat up, looking around until she felt something prod the back of her skull. 

Turning, she blinked in surprise, looking up the barrel of a rifle at some kind of machine. It held the weapon in one hand, the other hanging limp and a massive hunk missing from its torso, white oil or blood leaking from everywhere.

Blinking, sat on the grass in a strange forest and shell-shocked from everything that had so quickly washed over her, she could only ask, “You’re hurt. Do you need help?”

The things strange head lifted back, tilted to the side, and multiple little flats along its black head flanged and twitched in what she guessed was a reaction. Finally, it pointed out quietly, “You fell from the sky, Human Woman. We came from the direction of the nearest Human settlement on this planet, and none dressed as you do.”

Looking up, there were no trees above where she’d fallen from, so she nodded numbly and murmured, “Yeah.” After a moment she added, “I’m Pyrrha Nikos, by the way.”

“We are Geth.” The machine intoned in its synthetic, warbling voice. After a moment it asked, “Are you aware of us?”

“You are right in front of me, so… I don’t understand the question.” Hesitantly, and collecting herself, she rose and glanced at the weapon pointed at her face. The God of Darkness had mentioned her mind and powers would be intact so… 

Using her Semblance, she recalled her discarded weapons, the two things slipping soundlessly through the air and resting on her back where they were always left. The machine watched soundlessly, eye flaps - she had no other reference name for them, so there it was - twitching in reaction. She didn’t know why, but its flashlight-esque face twitched this way and that, looking at her and then the weapons, and then it lowered the rifle slightly. 

“You are a strange Human, Nikos, Pyrrha.” It started, the woman’s brows raising at the statement coming from two thirds of a robot pointing a gun at her chest now. A realization that had her hands curling into anxious fists and breathing speeding at her remembrance of the last time that had happened. “Your adrenal response is heightening and you seem frightened. Moreso than previous. We would like to know why.”

“You would scarcely believe me.” She murmured, gently reaching up and poking the barrel of the weapon back up, towards her face rather than her chest. A surprisingly, ridiculously, more comfortable place for it to be. “Such a story told to me even a week prior would have seen my politely recusing myself from one whom I called a liar.”

“We would detect the adrenal response and heart palpitations, as well as minor reactions in your face and voice, were you to lie.” Beyond Geth, in the far distance, she could hear sounds. Gunshots, for one, cracking out at least a few hundred yards away at something. The machine didn’t turn towards them but, after a moment, lowered its rifle and turned, bobbing its head the way she supposed it had come. “There are other Humans from this settlement hunting me and heading this way. If you are from here-”

“I am not, that is to say the last on the matter.” She cut him, it, off. In the back of her head, she remembered the God of Darkness’ words about how doomed she’d be without who he sent her to. And she was not in the mood to die again, particularly to what sounded like angry hunters after her new acquaintance. Flicking her arms to either side, she stepped past the damaged machine she held her shield and sword loose at her hands and asked, “Do we need to fight? I can disarm and wound them for our escape.”

“You have no reason to help us.”

“You didn’t shoot me when you had the chance.” She nodded her head towards the woods, “Even though they would do so to you, and you assumed I belonged here. You only stopped because I was in your path, I suspect. Why?”

“We did not wish to harm you.” The answer was quiet and simple, and all the Mistralian needed to tighten the grip on her sword and meet its gaze flatly. “You do not need to risk yourself for us.”

“I’m a Huntress.” She said quietly, gently even. A title she considered lofty, but one a literal God had once referred to her as, and she would not dare deign to question him. Returning her gaze to the forest, she explained, “We protect the weak, the innocent, and the like. You are wounded - weak - and innocent of any harm I am aware of. Unless you murdered one of them?”

“We did not.” The machine’s voice was the same, but even so as it turned to her she felt a hint of… Defensiveness. “We were spotted and fled, and were shot as we did so. But we have not harmed anyone here, and do not intend to unless forced.” 

“Then you deserve protection from people simply killing you for some nonsense.” She shrugged, rolling her shoulders to limber up. Quieter, firmer, she asked, “Are we fighting or running? I don’t know where we are, but-”

“Running. We can not fight without inflicting harm, and fleeing is possible. Undue harm is ill-advised and not desired.” The machine turned without anything further and, after an odd, almost anxious moment to check she had as well, took off into the forest. In spite of the wounds it sported, the machine’s pace was quick, rifle on its back and one arm holding the other to minimize more damage coming. In spite of that, it spoke, “My ship is nearby. We can escape in it with time to seal pressurization seals before we leave the atmosphere.”

“A-Alright.” She grunted, leaping over a log and rolling as she hit the dirt, coming up just behind the machine and falling in there. Ahead of them, a tree’s bark splintered violently and Geth steered to the left, raising both arms over its head in surprise. 

Instinctively, she grabbed ahold of the machine’s good shoulder to keep it in front of her and her body between them and the shooters, raising her shield to better protect its head and ordering, “Lead the way, Geth. I will cover the rear.”

“We detect no kinetic barriers. If you are shot-” As if the words were prophetic, she cried out and slammed against the machine as a rapid staccato of rounds cracked through the air. One passe to their left and into the dirt in a little puff while another threw hunks of bark off a tree they passed by and ducked behind to use as cover while they ran. She kept running so Geth never stopped, instead calling back, “Are you wounded, Nikos, Pyrrha?”

“No, my Aura stopped it.” Even though it had still smarted when the round struck her shoulder, she was indeed unharmed. 

“We do not understand what-”

“When I tell you my story, count my immunity to bullets as evidence.” She ordered simply as they broke into another clearing. Ahead of them, the top shimmering gently, a long, blue craft. Like a long beetle, but lacking any legs or horns and instead simply resting on the ground, with a ramp lowered at the back. Sensing movement, she turned and her shield snapped up as a heavier shot slammed into it and staggered her back. “Are we getting in that thing?”

“Yes.” She turned at the words and caught a flash of something, between the spaced out trees and across the relatively barren, sparsely shrubbed forest. 

A flash before of armor, she realized a moment before a round caught her sword-side shoulder and threw her back. The woman cried out in as much surprise as pain but coming up quickly and keeping her body turned to present the smallest silhouette possible with her shield covering as much of herself as possible. Another small staccato set of rounds struck her, two scoring across her shield and two more whistling past her lithe form, and she turned, fleeing for the ‘ship’ Geth had mentioned.

“Are you wounded, Nikos?” It asked as she climbed aboard, the ramp closing behind her as she approached the back of the chair set into the front of the ship like it had been waiting for her alone. She grunted a simple ‘no’ and shook her head, and it turned towards the front of the ship, adding, “We advise you sit down. Geth craft are not suited for organic occupants.”

That was very evidently true, the inside of the ship cramped and low. The pilot seat was the only one, with a scant five feet to the back ramp and only four from floor to ceiling. To either side, pipes, terminals and flat work tables recessed into the wall, and the right sported a tall, several inch deep recess she guessed was where Geth could rest to recover or recharge. On the ceiling, electrical work spidered around as much as they did below the gratings of the floor. She elected to sit at the back, leaned against the ramp that had closed behind them as the craft lifted into the air and listed sharply back, the latter fact alone making her very happy to have sat at the back. Overhead and throughout the ship, a strange hissing sounded that she didn’t understand, and didn’t question. 

After several minutes, the machine turned and called back to her, “We have escaped the planet. My ship is cloaked, and will not be tracked. We are safe.”

“I see.” She didn’t rise from the floor, though, nor question what ‘escaped the planet’ meant. Instead, she called out in as polite a voice as she could manage, “Geth, I’m exhausted. Would you mind if I rested for a time?”

“We do not. And we wish you a good rest, though the compartment of this vessel is unsuited for such.” The machine’s seat was recessed down and into the floor but it lifted slightly and turned to let it stand and step into the recess by the chair. Small arms began quickly and quietly cauterising the damaged cabling as it continued, “I a setting a route for another nearby settled world where I will procure credits for us to purchase you food. From there we will determine our next course. Is this agreeable?”

“Hm.” She nodded, letting her eyes close. The machine didn’t speak again and, within moments, she fell into a deep rest as exhaustion claimed her. 

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	2. Chapter 2

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Official Supporters: 

Grand Priestess, Luna Haile -

High Priest, Alvelvnor

Priest, The Impossible Muffin 

Priest, Xager the Chaos King 

Acolyte, DigiDemonLord

Acolyte, Stonecold

Acolyte, Espacole

Initiate, Greg Gibson

If you want to be on the Supporter list, PM one of us for details or join our discord. Server ,.for details. Hope you enjoy reading my stories, and remember to post a Review/Comment to let me know what you liked and didn’t. 

So, Fanfiction will not let me link to discord. So, I apologize to every single FF reader for this, but please PM me for a join link. And please consider doing so, I enjoy chatting with you lot. On AO3, the link is viable : https://discord.gg/2UZncAm

Also, I have a twitter now, @ Ozpin Cane. Twisted Fate is 

If I could trick FF into thinking this is not a link here it is (delete the spaces and turn):  
D iscord . gg (slash) kfhkfUb

Betas for this story so far :

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Supporter Story for : Espa Cole

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I hope you all enjoy the chapter update and the proper start of the Rannoch Arc, and hope you drop a Review and let me know what you think. But this isn’t for that. I wanted to offer a special congratulations to a friend of mine named Bill the Something, who recently became an uncle.

And I wanted to give him a special congratulations on chapters through the week.

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“Nikos, Pyrrha.” A hand, cold and inhuman, with fingers that were too few and larger than any normal man’s. 

“What…?” She blinked her eyes open and grimaced at the bright light as the hand receded, giving her space and peace to wake up she presumed. “What is it, Geth?”

“We wished to speak, but you were asleep.” She groaned but nodded and, with a sigh, started to stretch and wake up properly. While the woman sat up in spite of her stiff, aching limbs the synthetic voice explained in its seemingly ever present, near monotone, “You have been asleep for ten hours, Nikos, Pyrrha. A normal Human woman only requires approximately nine hours of sleep unless they are ill. Are you ill, Nikos, Pyrrha?”

“No, I’m… Just tired, I suppose.” Not to mention every single inch of her was cold, clammy and ached. “Gods, this is why you don’t sleep in armor…”

Whether that ache was the chilly interior of the ship or actually was having slept in her armor, or perhaps a bit of both mixed with what happened before she’d met her automaton friend, she couldn’t have guessed. Sighing tiredly, she stood on aching legs and sent her Aura coursing through her to relieve the pains and aches, groaning as it worked through her and leaning with an arm outstretched to reach one of the walls and prop herself up. Groaning, she stretched her muscles taut, the machine waiting patiently while she did, a few feet away with its flashlight like head on her. 

“Do you, um…” She let her hands fall at her side and grimace, unsure of how to phrase what she wanted to say without being rude. Finally she shrugged, decided dying gave her some right to be abrupt, and simply asked, “Why are you staring at me like that, Geth?”

“We are waiting for you to be fully awake so that we may speak.” The machine warbled simply in its synthetic, almost trembling voice. 

“I… See.” It didn’t say anything, the flanges around its head twitching a few ties at her words, and she sighed as she realized it was waiting for permission to speak, and it didn’t respond to her more subtle prompting. Again, she tried to prompt him, or it, to speak, “I suppose you have some questions. A fair thing.”

Again, its flanges flicked and twitched expressively, but it didn’t speak. Smiling politely in spite of the mild awkwardness, she leaned against the back of the ship, grimacing as her anxiety spiked at the ludicrous fear of what lay beyond it. On Remnant, falling from a Bullhead merely meant acrobatics and Aura use, but in space…? 

“Well then…” She swallowed unsurely and turned her attention on the machine to ignore the spike of fear, “I am well awake, Geth, I assure you. Ask whatever you like, I’ll answer to the best of my abilities, I promise.”

“You do not fear us.” It observed, the Mistralian woman’s brows furrowing in confusion over if that was a question or a statement. After a moment of her silence, blinking confusedly and mouth half open to answer, the machine added, “You do not fear us, and you did not recognize what we are when we encountered you. Given the variable we were on Eden Prime, this is an oddity we do not understand.”

“Oh, I see, you… You want to know who I am, then? Where I came from?” The machine’s nod was small, and came a couple seconds later than she had expected it. Whether that was because it had needed to consider the question or only registered a need to nod in answer after he wasn’t sure. “I-I see. Well, the… Answers may be difficult to believe, but I’m not from a planet that knows of your… I’m so sorry, is species the word or-or race, or…?”

“According to Alliance dictionaries and our understanding of the English language, both words are functionally applicable in this setting.” The machine’s flanges twitched again after a second and, inscrutable without so much as a face or any actual body language to emote with beyond said metal flaps. 

“I’m sorry, but what’s… English?” The word sounded strange to her and, this time, Geth did react. Its head tilted to one side curiously and it slid the majority of its weight to its unarmored side, as though regarding her. Suddenly anxious under that sudden scrutiny she half-murmured, “I… I am sorry if what I said was strange, but… But I honestly do not recognize the name.”

“Query, Nikos.” The machine preambled suddenly, Pyrrha nodding for it to speak when, again, it seemed to wait for her consent. “What is the name of the language you are speaking?”

“I’m… Speaking Valean Common, though I confess my grasp of the knowledge is not as grand as one might prefer.” Her teachers had certainly made that clear, before her track as a tournament champion had begun in true earnest. The machine stilled, staring over her shoulder at the wall as best she could tell. After a few moments of the quiet she went on, unsure of what to say and hating the awkward feeling silence, “I doubt you would really know the name, Geth. It’s from a planet you-”

“The word ‘Valean’ has zero applicable language matches in the Extranet’s Human categories. We have searched four hundred and eighty two online language sites based around Human studies and the Alliance’s history.” The machine reported, interrupting her, its flourescent ‘face’ snapping around to her. “Valean as phrased indicates it is a place or region, likely named ‘Vale’ or ‘Valea’ based on our understanding of the English - Valean Common - language. Is this correct?”

“Yes.” She nodded, crossing her arms under her lightly armored bust and relaxing as much as she could against the presumably armored hull of the ship she was in. After a half-second she added, rushed and a clear after-thought, “And it’s… Vale. Not Valea, just… Just Vale. The Kingdom of Vale, point of fact.”

“Where is it?” The machine prodded, “Our searches are bringing out no results. Even when amended to remove ‘Valea’ and add ‘Kingdom’.”

“On the planet Remnant, which… Which you won’t find either, Geth, it’s not a world you would know.” She sighed and reached up, running her fingers through her messy, knotted hair and grimacing at the realization of her disastrous state. Armor scuffed and scratched where it hadn’t been destroyed and, subsequently, repaired, hair matted and knotted in places with sweat, she looked to have crawled off a battlefield. “Not a bad comparison, actually…”

“What do you mean?” 

“Ah, n-nothing, Geth. Merely… Thinking aloud.” She waved him off, sliding down the slope of the hull and letting her head roll back to rest against it, eyes closed so she could enjoy the coolness. “I did tell you I would tell you my story, did I not? Back on… Eden Prime, was it?”

“Affirmative.” She took the affirmation as an answer to both her questions and nodded. 

“Well, I’ve quite a long story for you, then.” And she certainly hoped that the machine would believe her. She didn’t fancy seeing what would happen if it decided she was lying. Not out in space, where Oum knew what would happen to her if the machine decided to evict her. Opening her eyes and meeting its light, she began, “My planet is called, as I said previously, Remnant. On it, there are creatures known as the Creatures of Grimm…”

The explanation would take time but, she realized shortly into it, the machine wouldn’t interrupt her. It simply stood, listening to her as she told it everything she could remember in detail enough to and thought relevant enough for her long, frankly tall, tale. As she went, she grew more confident, more comfortable, with her telling and went on faster and with a clearer voice. Not that, she was sure, the machine cared about any of it beyond the base facts she was handing it to process. Charisma and story craft didn’t matter to a synthetic mind that had no care for the frills she added around the facts of her world, her life, and her death. The last of which, finally, prompted a reaction from Geth.

“You were terminated?” It asked, eye spinning slightly in its socket and flanging headplates expanded around its head in what she decided to be a shocked face. Throat dry and, distantly, stomach starting to ache she nodded, and the machine’s flanking headplates twitched again. “Impossible. Humans can not be terminated and continue to exist afterwards without drastic cybernetic reconstruction. We detect none inside you.”

“I also stopped a bullet, or several, and you said you didn’t detect any…” Her lips pursed in confusion for a moment as she tried and failed to remember the name of the foreign element, “Of that-that element?”

“Element Zero. An element commonly used in biotics and shielding units of all sizes, as well as communication and armor technology.” Its head twitched again and it added, “Our scans currently only show a micro-amount within your weapon. A sensor failure is therefore not likely to be why we do not detect any elsewhere on you.”

“That, yes. Thank you, Geth.” She nodded, wrapping her arms firmly around her legs and resting her chin on her knees between them, behind the armored pauldrons where the softer leather underpinnings were. “And as you said, only my sword has any of it. Meaning that my ability to protect myself is not due to it, whereas Aura can shield a well enough trained and aware human being from harm.”

“Further, Auras can enable Semblances, as I told you before.” Raising her shield as it had no Element Zero and would serve as the best proof, she pitched it across the short interior room. Then, fingers splayed and Aura flexing under her will, she recalled the shield and it soared right back through the air to her, landing on her arm and staying seemingly on its own accord. “My Semblance is named Polarity, and allows me to move any mental by touching it, suffusing my Aura into it. Scan away if you like.”

“We have been doing so for several minutes. Your… Display consisted of no Element Zero based technology that we can detect.” After a moment, its flanging headplates clicked open and then closed. “Very well. We acknowledge your claims as... Acceptable, regarding Semblances and Aura. How did you come to be alive after termination?”

“A… God revived me.” The machine’s head tilted to the side and Pyrrha sighed, nodding understandingly, “Yes, I know, it sounds… Insane to say. But I died, and the God of Darkness, Father of the Grimm, met with me and explained that he… Wanted me to amuse him.”

“Gods exist?”

“Apparently, yes, though they do little in the world.” The Dark Brother had refused, even, to help her team in exchange for her ‘entertaining’ him as he demanded. As much to that fact as to the machine’s gaze, she shrugged unsurely, “I can’t prove his existence to you, however. All he did was reforge my weapons and armor as needed, and drop me in your path on Eden Prime.”

“It is illogical, but such would explain your sudden appearance. And falling from the sky.” The machine whirred in thought, likely running through everything she’d said so far in the few seconds of quiet it took to do so. Finally, with muted clicks of its head emoting as it often did, the machine answered, “You have proven your claims of Aura and Semblance, we have observed you being shot and unphased by it, and we have learned of the organic concept of… Trust. Is this a moment where organics would… Offer trust?”

“Yes.” Or, she would hope so, any way. She’d trusted Ozpin when he told her about Magic, for one fact, and so expecting others to trust the leap here didn’t seem too outlandish. Even if they were all very much outlandish, insane claims. “I’m not asking you to believe in the Dark Brother, or anything, but… I am not lying about it any more than what you yourself say as proven to you.”

“Acknowledged. We will offer our trust.” The damaged machine turned without another word, moving to its seat at the front of the ship and taking it before speaking again. “We are headed to the Omega System to meet with a trader that the Geth have paid for supplies. They can take you elsewhere if you do not wish to stay with us.”

The idea of going with a stranger in a strange land, or galaxy she supposed as ‘land’ had connotations that weren’t applicable here, did not appeal to her very much. For relatively obvious reasons, really. And even if Geth was still a relative stranger, the machine seemed oddly… Innocent. Naive, almost, but not in the sense that it didn’t know any better. Rather, it seemed new to trust, and people, in general. And something told her that trusting Geth now was the better option, even as fresh as the memories of the Atlesian machines was.

“Instinct or the God’s influence…?” She murmured unsurely, grimacing at the total lack of surety she managed. She had no way of knowing, really, so she pushed the thought aside and raised her voice for the waiting machine to hear, “Should you be willing, Geth, I would… Prefer to stay with you. This galaxy is new to me, and I would rather be with someone I trust.”

“You trust us?”

“You trusted me.” She nodded, “In humans, organics I suppose as you said it, trust goes both ways. You trusted me even when my claims were somewhat irrational, and now I would do the same.”

“...Acknowledged.” The machine finally said, almost a full minute later and sounding oddly… Hopeful, if the machine’s synthesized tones could even sound truly hopeful in any way that wasn’t her own perceptions. “We will reach the Omega System in two hours, thirty one minutes and seventeen seconds. We apologize, but Geth do not need food or water, and so we have none.”

“It’s fine. You… Said we were going to get supplied, so I suppose that would be included?” Or she hoped, at least, since she kind of needed food and water to survive. “Also, I will… Need sleeping materials, and perhaps a change of clothes, and-”

“We are currently communicating with Geth to arrange supplies in whatever way is the most efficient.” It interrupted, now managing to sound oddly exasperated. After a moment, it explained, “The only viable conclusion we have reached is to request a jannitory liquid receptacle at the supply point, and head for the Perseus Veil. A ship will be awaiting us with the needed facilities to house you.”

“You are… Going to give me a toilet bucket to use?” She asked, the machine nodding slightly in an affirmative, apparently either uncaring for the discomfort of it or not understanding it enough to respond. Grimacing at the prospect, she sighed and did her best to resign herself to it. It was better than whatever ill fortune could possibly befall her in a galaxy she knew nothing about, she supposed. “How, er, how long will I be relegated to that?”

“One week.” The machine answered quickly, “The specialized ship will complete production in two point four five standard Sols,” the Mistralian assumed from context that meant days, “and we will arrive three point two nine days afterwards. Approximately one standard week.”

“I see…”

“We… Apologize for the discomfort.” So Geth did understand it, at least somewhat, then. “If this changes your mind we would take no offense and will instead-”

“It’s… Fine.” Not even remotely, but it would have to be. And she was a Huntress, for Oum’s sake, she could deal with such a state for a few days surely. “I will survive, I assure you. There are, I am entirely sure, things out there I would not survive in any way, form or fashion. So I shall have to find a way to survive the sorrows of lacking a lavatory.”

“We are not aware Humans require a lavatory to survive…”

“That… That was a joke, Geth.” She sighed, chuckling under her breath when, a moment later, the machine gave a clipped ‘Acknowledged’ and went quiet. Finally, to break that, she asked, “I told you of my people, Geth. I would be very interested in hearing about you, or your own for that matter. And besides, there is little to do else aside from learn something about my traveling companion. Hm?”

“Very well.” The machine answered, turning to look at her for a moment as though to gauge something she wasn’t aware of. After a second it turned back to its console and began to speak. “We will start with the creation of the Geth species, as servitors to the Creator race, if you are so inclined.”

“Yes, please. I look forward to learning.” She enjoyed stories, and history as well, so she adjusted herself where she sat and began removing her heavier armor for comfort while the machine started to speak. 

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The contact had been a Salarian, an amphibian race that was built lithely and stood a bit shorter than herself, who had eagerly accepted the payment for their supply request, but very much avoided talking to either of them about anything other than payment. A few times, she saw it - she was unsure of how to discern its gender gender and didn’t ask - watching her like it wanted to say something. The alien never did, though

Sections of Geth’s damaged armor plating around his legs, long since removed since they had left Eden Prime, along with a few Geth thermal cells and a segment of Geth wiring and a single ammunition block from Rannoch were handed over. In exchange the Salarian had allowed her and her machine to fill their need for ship fuel, which Geth’s Geth ship, which was an ever frustrating way or referring to things, had been specially built to use for its mission. Then he’d offloaded three crates of military rations and water, that were lined up along the back of the craft and covered with a thin blanket for her to sleep in, and the alien was away. Without waiting for so much as a ‘thank you’, either. 

Not to mention, of course, the yellow janitor’s bucket at the foot of the ‘bed’ that she tried to ignore, though it was blessedly sealable so that none of the contents could bother her.

“You need a name.” She finally observed, days later, dressed in armor that was getting to be uncomfortable now from now being cleaned and more than tired in a way she couldn’t explain, laid on her back on her makeshift bed with her hands folded on her chest. The machine’s metal flanges twitched in curiosity and she explained, “You said that your mission was to understand and learn to relate to organics, if possible.”

“My mission is to gather knowledge on organic habits to engender understanding, as well as to watch against potential punitive assaults.” Geth corrected calmly as it flew their shup, the young Mistralian humming her acknowledgement to the information. “Is there a reason you desire a specific designation for this unit?”

“For one, now I know your species is Geth too, that being your name also is kind of… Strange.” Five days had passed by now, and she had more than learned that it wouldn’t take offense at forward statements. In fact, as it had explained, it preferred them since it didn’t understand things like humor properly yet, though it was ‘studying Extranet materials’ on the matter. “Besides that, Geth units having names would help people empathize with them. Empathy begets understanding, among people.”

“A name would further the chances of peace and cooperation between Geth and organics?” And thus Geth survival, she knew without asking. When the machine looked at her, she nodded, and the machine turned back around. “Searching for potentially applicable names and forwarding the information you have suggested to the Geth collective. Do you have suggestions?”

“Try for religiously thematic ones.” She offered, unsure of what else to offer. “At the least where I came from, names tied to traditions were respectable and common both. My name, for one, is a reference to a mythical general Pyrrhus, who fought against the bestial Grimm and won withering victories.”

“And you believe this could assist the Geth in organic relations?”

“It could help, yes, and certainly couldn’t hurt if nothing else.” She shrugged, eyes closing while she relaxed boredly, completely starved for options on how to remedy that particular problem. “You asked for direction, after all, and at the least it’s that. I’m sorry, but I can’t think of anything else.”

“We are Legion, for we are many.” The machine finally intoned, turning to look at her again even though she knew it didn’t need to. It did it for her entirely, knowing it made her marginally more comfortable to face her while they talked than to watch her using the small ship’s interior sensors. “Christian Bible, book of Revelations. The reverence is to a spiritual being made up as a collective of other beings. The parallel is suiting, and the name seems simple enough for functional use. Nikos?”

“It works well enough, yes.” It was simple, as the machine said, easily remembered, and made sense given what Geth, Legion, was now. 

An amalgam of hundreds of thousands of individual entities reaching consensus about everything from firing a gun to, she knew now, bringing her with them all. To a further extent, she knew, the entire Geth species had agreed to help her get acclimated to this new galaxy. Even if they ostensibly benefited from it as well, and had made clear they did, she still felt humbled and honored to have an entire species deciding to help her. Whether, to them, it was a small investment or not didn’t matter. 

They were still doing it.

“Then we accept this designation.” The machine spoke, turning to look at her once again, offering her a small nod of its fluorescent head. It's flaps twitching oddly and voice, colored by either its own or her perceptions, tinged by satisfaction, the machine reintroduced itself by its new name. “We are Legion, a terminal of the Geth. We will use this designation in future requiring circumstances.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence after that, for a time. Before she began to get bored again, at least, sitting up on her bed and calling pieces of her armor to her to clean with a rag habitually. It didn’t take long, of course, as she had neither worn it or gone into battle with it yet, so it started clean. So her excuse for busying herself quickly vanished, the armor returning into its ordered heap at the head of her bed. She wanted to work on her weapon, too, if only for something to do, but with the technology in it now she was unsure about whether that would be a wise idea. And destroying her weapon for ignorance was not something she was too interested in doing. 

With a sigh, she unlaced her bodice and, naked from the waist up now beside her undershirt, bent over it with the rag and a bottle of water, setting to scrubbing where she could to at least try and help its sorry state. Hours she spent doing that with her various articles, putting them aside and removing the next piece on after another to work, redressing when they were dry to preserve what modesty she could. The machine never spoke of it or looked at her, for reasons she did not know beyond its lack of care for her showing skin and base understanding of human sensibilities. As well, of course, as occasionally opening or closing its work tables along the walls for her to use when its sensors let it note her needing it. 

She would murmur a thank you, it would answer its acknowledgement, and they would move on until it happened again. 

Her armor and clothing as cleaned as possible given the circumstances at hand, she would move on to exercises. A hundred push-ups, a hundred sit-ups, squats, and whatever else she could do in the confines of the fighters. Running, alas, was impossible, as was specialized weight training, but she got as much breathing exercises as she could by alternating holding her breath for as long as possible and speeding up her breathing, then forcing herself to slow it and her heartrate down again afterward, to drill a better control of it into herself as she’d been trained to.

This continued for the duration of their journey, the hours stretching on to feel impossibly long and her sense of time steadily breaking down. Unavoidable, given the situation, but something to suffer. And suffer it she did, in quiet and resigned dignity, befitting a Huntress she hoped. 

Though she had given her life already, so she felt she’d earned the title more than well enough. 

“We have arrived at our destination.” It finally intoned in the midst of her exercises, the woman controlling herself enough to finish the sit-up before standing and giving the machine a hopeful look. Seeing it, the machine explained quietly, hands flicking out along its consoles rapidly and without pause the entire time. “In one minute, we will conclude docking measures with the light stealth corvette. Then we may embark, load our cargo, and while you settle in I will pilot the fighter to a planet the collective wishes investigated. Please, seal the crates and fold the blankets for efficient unloading.”

“You do not wish for me to come with you?” She asked cautiously, sliding on her armor rapidly, as much with her Semblance drawing the plates to her form as with her hands tying the straps in place. Freshly armored, or as freshly as possible right now,she turned to the crates to set to work on cleaning up her mess and added, “I would not mind, you know. If you wished it.”

“You require space and time to clean up from our travels thus far, according to my studies on Human physiological and psychological needs.” The machine countered simpy, answering her simple question by, as always, laying out its entire thought process for her. She grimaced but nodded, knowing that in spite of being too busy to turn to her Legion would see it, and the machine went on further, “Also, our next destination is Omega Station. We will require your aid to accomplish our goals on Omega Station.”

“Why?”

“Geth are hated by organics due to the Heretic’s actions with the Old Machine, Sovereign. Omega Station is an organic one.” It explained, the names only having the barest hint of context to her. Enough to understand its worry, at the least, and that was all she needed. Seeing her silence, it added in a quiet tone, “Until we make contact with the governing body, Aria T’Loak, our presence will not be safe on the station.”

“Which would mean a battle.”

“We do not wish to harm any organics.” The machine affirmed, answering an unasked question. “And so, we would request that you meet with the governing body for us, and request permission for us to come aboard to trade.”

“And if we are refused passage?” She asked, looking over her shoulder at the machine. It hesitated to answer, for a moment, and she called out, “Legion?”

“Then we will infiltrate the station to gather the information we require and depart.” It finally answered, turning to look at her, flanged armor clicking and flaying in turn. A show of its anxiety, she was learning to understand. Or something akin to it, at least. “According to reports, we suspect an individual is on the station connected to Shepard, Commander. We wish to speak with them, if possible.”

Another in a species’ history of being hated and reviled for what they were, instead of who. Shameful, to say the least, and she would not turn away in a moment where she could show them another side of organics. 

“If it is what you need, I will gladly repay your kindness with the favor.” She just hoped it didn’t come to a battle, in the end. With a curt nod, she clicked the lid closed on the crate and finished simply, “I’m all ready and packed, Legion. Dock whenever you wish to, and drop me off. I’ll wait on your return, and we shall head to Omega.”

“Acknowledged.” The machine answered simply, a moment before their ship shuddered gently. Behind her, the ramp lowered, a long, metal tube surrounding her on all sides with a flat bottom and top. At the end, a blue field sparked gently, through which she could see a wide room that looked like the fighter’s interior, but doubled in size. “Advisory warning : The docking tube has no gravitational field generation. Please be careful.”

“Acknowledged.” She called out, pushing the first, emptiest crate into the tube and watching it float freely. Sighing, she used her Semblance to propel it gently over the tube, setting it on the far end of the room she saw. The rest, as they say, was rinse and repeat, which brought a question to mind. “Legion did, er, you build a bathing room on this ship?”

“We did.”

“Oh. I see, well… That is wonderful.” She blinked, feeling excitement well up inside herself as she set to work faster than before.

A hot shower was calling her name, and a Mistralian always answered when called.

The ship itself was a simple affair, as per what she supposed was typical of Geth standards, and looked much like the beetle-like fighter had, except longer and stockier. A single moderately small storage room at the back, now a third full with her crates, weaponry and armor, and a single hall that divided the forward section of the ship. The majority of which was dedicated to her, with a moderately large bathroom on one side of the hall and her bathroom on the other, the hallway dividing the ship cleanly from front to back.

The bathroom itself was simple but nice enough, with a steel toilet and shower set on the exterior wall and a washing basin set against the other, a water tank dominating the front right corner of the bathing room. Easily twice the size of her tub, likely because, if she had to hazard a guess, Legion itself didn’t need any water. So the water systems had only been installed for her. Against the interior wall, between it and the sink, were two small, blue box-like things that she realized a moment later were for her clothes. They were a third the size of normal clothing, of course, but given how little she had to wear, and the few towels she had, it made sense to have them be small.

On the other side of the bisecting hall was an equally acceptably sized bedroom, which given her rather unfortunate conditions until now was an extravagance she could appreciate. 

The bedroom was an equally simple affair, with a large bed made of synthetic feeling fibers, set onto a metal frame on the ground. By the door was a metal wardrobe, and in the corner an obviously metal set of shelves. Against the far wall, either letting out into space itself or set against the piloting structures she wasn’t sure, a set of weights had been neatly stacked for her. Between the dresser and shelves was a wonderfully stocked work table, presumably for her to maintain her equipment and clothing, which was something to thank Legion for later. Gone were the days of a rag, oil and water to clean her armor and shield,

Through a heavy door at the back of the storage room, across from the docking doors, was a wide and short room full of mechanical contraptions she didn’t understand. At the back, the storage compartment, and at the front was the piloting compartment. Though they looked like engines and piloting tools, but she knew she’d never be able to tell for certain so she put her simply moved on, heading to her new bathroom to strip and, finally, clean herself properly. 

And then, some real exercise and armor maintenance.

“Oh gods…” She murmured, watching steam rise from the water filling the tub with wide, eager eyes. Dipping a hand into it she sighed, smiling, “Oh, hot water… How I have missed you.”

Soaking in the tub of hot water and, finally, able to relax she let her eyes close and wondered, for a moment, how her friends were doing… Were they alive? Had her sacrifice meant anything, done anything, been for something? She’d given her life to buy them time, to let them escape, but had they? Lost in those thoughts and feeling her emotions well up, she hugged herself and turned on her side in the hot water, eyes pinched closed against the fear and pain she’d felt. Felt and kept down, until now, under the surface and under control while another was around.

Now, though?

Now she was alone, truly and surely alone in a way that broke her heart to realize, without her team or her friends to comfort her. And she felt it all well up inside herself for the first time, like a tidal wave demanding to break. And break it did, as the woman let out a keening, low cry and began to weep in her hot, soothing bath. Hugging herself in the hot water, she finally let herself break down, unable to continue resisting it any longer. She needed it, she knew, and would deal with the pain and ache in her breast before Legion returned. 

She wouldn’t burden the machine with her problems further, and it would need her when it got back. Need her in fighting shape, further. That need, at least, assuaged her aching loneliness and grief with purpose. Purpose she focused on as she let herself break, using it to anchor herself and fight through it.

An hour later, she was done and, sitting in now cold water, she grabbed the rag she’d brought with her and began to scrub every inch of herself clean.

(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)

ThermalsniperN7 :

Kinda what I was thinking. Also, the battle before the dying part. I’d be burnt out and exhausted, to say the very least, after so much shite.

Mafi 99 :

Between ME1 and ME2 is when this takes place, closer to ME2 than 1.

Janed 12000 :

Aside from the Heretic Geth who stood with the Reapers in ME1, the Geth, by and large, just want to be left to live their lives. They are curious about Organics and would enjoy relations with them, but see no way to do it and, instead, pursue their own future and wish to live to see it. 

York 52 :

She will be, yes. Just give it time to get up and moving.

That One Random Dude :

Characters, likely not, at least beyond potential visits and interactions with the Brothers, Light or Dark either way. As for her and Shepard? Yeah, that’s kind of how I intend the whole thing to go down.

Hard to not believe in people coming back from the dead with Zombie Commando over here taking shots, eh?

Dekuton :

Geth ships are shown in myriad occasions to have atmospheres, as many electronics are more easily produced that function better in it. Those that don’t would, ostensibly, vent atmosphere once in space if they felt it necessary. With an organic aboard, simply not doing so would be simple enough.

As for Legion helping Pyrrha, it’s as simple as ‘You would be harmed for helping me and I don’t like that’.


	3. Chapter 3

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‘Grief is a human emotion, as human as any other. It’s perfectly normal to feel it, to be broken by it even, if only for a time.’ Pyrrha remembered her sister saying on the day the Mistralian commander had come, from some far flung military garrison her mother had dove into the fray to save, allowing herself to be overwhelmed and consumed by the black tide so that the Mistralian soldiers and civilians could flee to safety. ‘But you can’t let it control you. Instead, let it fuel you, and pour all the pain and grief into training. All the better to protect your loved ones from losing you and feeling the same ache.’

‘How?’ She’d asked, looking to her oldest sister, armored and regaliad as befitting a Mistralian Huntress, red sash tied around her waist. 

‘Take what happened, think about it, and imagine if you were there.’ When Pyrrha nodded that she had, her sister asked, ‘Could you have changed what happened, as the person you are now?’

‘N-No…’

‘Then take those emotions, and put them on a shelf where they can’t reach you. Way up high, out of reach.’ Her sister explained simply, ‘And then work yourself until you are the kind of person who could have changed what happened.’ 

‘I-Is that… Could I have helped mother?’ She’d asked, nervous but hopeful, smiling in the way a child did in response to an adult’s warm smile. 

‘Of course, little Pyrrha.’ She answered simply, ‘A Huntress can do anything if she trains hard enough. So train, train, train… Until you are stronger than anything that could possibly dare to step in front of you.’

Even nine years old, Pyrrha had taken the advice to heart, and the next day she and her oldest sister had trained together. Until her missing her mother was covered by the pain of muscles overspent, bruises well beaten into her, and bandages tied taut around her arms and legs where the practice weapon had bitten a bit deeper. She hadn’t cared, though. It was a better ache than the one in her heart, that made her chest tight and her throat constrict. 

With that had come a love of training, the challenge of it. Then, when that challenge faded, a love of tournament fighting, where she had again thrown her entire being. And so the ‘Invincible Girl’ had been born, domineering in tournaments and dominating on leaderboards. That had brought a new grief, one rectified eventually for a seemingly blissful time, and now it resulted in yet another kind of ache.

And as before, she hurled herself into training to escape it, rather than wallow in baths and cry her heart out. As admittedly cathartic as that had, in honest fact, been it wasn’t actually a constructive path. Or at least, so it was for a Huntress, who every Nikos knew carried the world on their backs. It didn’t orbit around them.

And so, she trained and drilled, to prepare herself for… Well, normally it would be for Grimm, but now she didn’t know. Regardless, something would no doubt come, and she would need to be at her best, even if the threat wound up merely being organics - as the machine would say - who hold too much hatred for her Geth companion. She would not allow ignorant, angry minds to kill her friend. And so she would train, to protect him and herself, if from different enemies.

The room she’d been given came with a clock that, at her words, would see her awake to chiming bells each morning and alert her when it was time to sleep each evening. A shower was her first order of business, followed by a small meal, and then the start to an exercise regimen that, while somewhat lax by her standards when she was in a state such as she was, would keep her well enough in shape to be useful. Even if she lacked any real workout attire, her black under armor clothing would more than suffice for the task.

It wasn’t like Legion would stare at the exposed skin or tight, form fitted clothing, after all. And needs must, beside. As they had on the fighter, for all that time, when she’d stripped down to clean herself or her clothing. While she’d never been nude, too modest as she would say it, she’d tended to end up as she was now. Her modesty was a concern too ingrained in her, as a person, to ignore.

But it was a civilian one, and one she had numerous times shaken off. Finally, she’d shaken off that inner conflict once again, and chided herself for thinking like a child, like a civilian even, and set to work properly. 

The weights Legion had procured weren’t sufficient for weight training - Nora had long and well ruined normal weights for the woman, though remembering that was bittersweet at best - but they were excellent for crunching, sprinting and Semblance practice. For weight and endurance training, her eyes turned to the heavy crates, full of electronics, spare parts she couldn’t identify - to the point of assuming they were spare parts, even - and, in a few cases, rations of water and food for her. The crates were heavy steel, industrially rugged, and heavy enough even she grunted from effort in picking them up. 

In short? They were perfect for her to break herself working out over, to harden into something better than she had been. 

Victory was non-negotiable, after all. Particularly when the lives of her loved ones and the innocent behind her counted on it. In Beacon, she’d failed.

On Omega she would not. And so she would train.

Closer to a month later than she’d hoped, lying in her bed while the majority of her clothes were washing nearby and she napped boredly, she felt the ship shudder gently around her. A feeling that reverberated through the ship around her almost, but distinctly not quite, violently. It was as though the entire ship had been taken in hand and, albeit gently, shaken. Like a friend shaking her awake, she thought as she rolled on the bed and looked around, waking up from her nap as her mind caught up to what was happening.

 

Instinctively to her, it was a worrying sensation that screamed to her almost primally - and definitely irrationally - of the ship coming to pieces, to empty her out into the frozen, deadly cold of space that, while she didn’t know what it would do for sure, didn’t seem a welcoming place. Else, why would the ship lack opening windows among other things? 

But rationally, and her trained discipline made leaning on rationality an easy enough task, she recognized the sensation from when she’d been left on the ship. A ship had docked with hers, and that had her on her feet inside a moment. 

Most of her clothing was in the wash, leaving her in her shorts and undershirt, but she didn’t care for the moment. Too excited was she to have someone, anyone, to talk to again after so long all by herself. So excited, in fact, that for once modesty didn’t even occur to her to be concerned about. Turning the corner of her door and looking down the hall to the cargo hold, she blinked in momentary confusion. 

“Nikos, Huntress.” The same voice called, flashlight face snapping around to her, flanges flicking in what she guessed to be surprise. Or relief. It was impossible to tell, really, with its lack of… Well, basically everything that would let someone read a person’s mood, really. 

But as the newly re-armored and patched machine turned to her, she felt it was looking her over. “You appear to be healthy. Though your complexion has paled since we encountered you on Eden Prime.”

“I… Well, I haven’t exactly seen the sun in a month, it feels like.” She smiled, crossing her arms over a bust that… She realized was not very well covered only now, though she barely cared at the moment. Swallowing her embarrassment, she asked, “Did your trip go well? I noticed your, er, body looks a bit better.”

“We conducted repairs en route to meet the ship we left you on.” The machine answered in an almost, but not quite, defensive sounding voice, its flanged head flicking and twitching in response. “The armor was discovered at the location, and is of sufficient quality for military use. It was abandoned in the crash location… And there was a hole.”

“It looks good on you, Legion.” She assured him, giving the blak and red armor a look and a nod for his benefit. It really did, though part of the right side near the bottom was missing, exposing the sides of cauterised cabling. After a moment, she spotted something on the armor and her brows furrowed in mild confusion, “What does ‘N7’ mean, though? The symbol is on your chest and shoulder.”

“N7 is a military vocational designation used by the Human Systems Alliance. The ‘N’ signifies a special forces applicable role in their vocational job training, though what precisely that entails can vary.” Legion explained, leaving the obvious - like how a Biotic, for she’d read on them with how Legion had brought them up, would receive was different to anyone else - out entirely. “The numerical designations ranging from ‘1’ and through ‘7’ classify stages of completed training and officiation, with the latter being the highest grade, meaning one has completed the entire Interplanetary Combatives Training program and is thus ready for deployment. The designation is also unique as Alliance personnel may wear it on their uniforms, and further, it is not earned by course training but instead by life fire and stress-endurance exercises including oxygen deprivation.”

“That… Sounds impressive, I suppose, though I don’t truly understand all of what that would entail.” She knew Mistral trained a special forces regiment in a similar, albeit planetary locked obviously, fashion. And so a military training regimen of high caliber was at least somewhat self-explanatory. “I myself was only a trainee as a Huntress, though I was top of my class and a tournament champion as well.”

“That is good.” Legion remarked simply, “Omega will likely involve violent altercations.”

“Are you…” She paused, searching for a word other than ‘allowed’ as she knew technically Geth weren’t allowed anywhere. After a moment she grimaced and sighed, “Are your kind not allowed on Omega, Legion? I know that most places are, well… Not friendly to you, to say the least.”

“The overall governing body does not care so long as we go to them first, but the people on the station might.” Legion answered simply, turning to begin making its way towards Pyrrha and then past her, towards the piloting section. “According to the time, it is early morning. Are you rested, Nikos?”

“Just call me Pyrrha, please.” Nikos was too formal for her liking, really. Even in her early days, she’d disliked the ‘miss Nikos’ she got so often. And while Legion seemed to swap between her first and last name, she trusted he’d acquiesce to her request. “And I am quite rested, yes. Why do you ask?”

“We are at the Relay into the Omega system, and it will take only an hour to reach the station on arrival.” The machine informed her simply, turning to look over its newly armored shoulder at her. With a flick of its flanges it asked, sounding amused, “Did you not notice that the ship was moving since approximately two weeks prior?”

“I… Well, no, I did not.” How could she have, really? She’d not felt any changes, at least. Waving the entire problem off she sighed and chuckled dryly, “I can be ready inside fifteen minutes, Legion. Just let me know and I’ll be ready to head out with you.”

“Acknowledged.” The machine, well, acknowledged before turning and leaving her in the hallway. 

Stretching her arms high overhead, using one hand to pull and stretch her shield arm, she sighed. Then, she smiled excitedly and bounded into her room, grabbing her leather bodice and setting to work checking and rechecking it over and over before moving on to the next piece. Finally, a chance to get out of a space ship and onto something larger. She couldn’t wait to explore, the first woman from Remnant to ever set foot on an alien space station! 

It was exhilarating.

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Omega was disgusting, Pyrrha decided virtually as soon as they’d docked in the upper sections and stepped off onto the foul smelling station. 

The entire station, or each and every last one of the winding halls they passed through from the docking sections at least, was filthy. Covered in dirt, piled detritus and random points, and old, rusted cabling and piping along the walls and ceiling. The people they passed in the moderately large hallways were filthy, wearing dirty clothes, some sporting bandages, and many smelling stronger than the station around them. They were dregs and poor-bodies, she knew the look and smell both from her time in Mistral’s upper tiers, where she’d trained with Mistralian soldiers. Occasionally she’d seen people like these, when they’d be taken down with the military trainers to patrol the lower tiers. Then and now, she felt shame at how grateful she was when they inevitably pressed away from them, giving the machine a wide berth and wary stares but largely ignoring the armored woman at its side. Most of them weren’t Human, though that had been the same in Mistral, as much the same, in fact, as the look of poverty and desperation on their often malnourished bodies and in their eyes. 

As with the Faunus then, she wanted to help them. Her oaths as a Huntress bid her to, but she had not the foggiest idea how to manage it any more now than she had then. Now, though, she had someone she could ask.

“Legion,” she started, moving to the machine’s more naturally Geth side, “these people-”

“Would not accept help from an Organic they did not know, much less from a Geth, Pyrrha.” The machine interrupted gently, quietly even. Like it was afraid to be overhead, somehow, above the murmuring of the people around them and the mechanical sounds that overlapped even that. In that same voice, the machine went on, “We would help them, otherwise, if we could. But further than their ninety-three percent approximate probable refusal rate, Aria T’Loak would likely see it as a move against her.”

“Helping people?” 

“Doing anything without explicit permission is against Omega law.” Legion corrected gently, turning only enough to get Pyrrha into its sight. After a moment of consideration, and a flick of its metal flanges, it add. “If you wish to undergo charity operations, we will supply support as needed.”

“I...” She wanted to, to stay and help these people seemed an easy choice. An obvious one, even. “I have no Lien- Credits, rather. Nor do I have friends to help me here on the station, because I know you will have to leave.”

“We are... Friends?”

“I would say so, yes. If you would, at least.” Not nearly the kinds of friends that she’d had in Beacon, of course. Such took time and effort, she knew, and the Geth was kind and gentle in a way that seemed surprising, given his mechanical nature. When it seemed to hesitate, she sighed and spoke. “My friend- My partner, rather, he had a saying. ‘Strangers are just friends you haven’t met yet’. We have more than met, and I would hardly call us enemies.”

“Friends… Friends.” The machine repeated, flanges twitching rapidly at the word, like it was testing it. Finally, its head bobbed slightly and its flanges stilled as they stepped out onto a wide, open area. And it said one, single word. “Acknowledged. And we have arrived at Afterlife, where we will meet Aria T’Loak.”

“Lead the way, then, Legion.” She nodded, rolling her shoulders reflexively as the line of waiters outside noticed them. Some cat called her, which she was used to, and some hurled insults and slurs at her mechanical companion.

Those she was… Less used to.

The Mistralian felt Afterlife far before she saw the second door open, the guards waving them in as they approached. The club thrummed and thumped like a thing alive, enough to have her grimace in discomfort when the second set of doors slid open. Inside was cleaner, at least in the sense of grime, rust and dirt that had soiled the outside. The people were more cleanly dressed as well, for those who were dressed and not dancing, blue skinned and nude, on tables or poles around the club. Humans were as well, of course, as well as a strange, birdlike alien towards the back, on top of a table where four bulkier versions of the same sat cheering, but the majority were, according to Legion’s explanations weeks prior, Asari. 

There were plenty of uniforms, too. Bright blues, reds, greens, silvers, all smattered around the bar and clustered together at tables. Most were armed, she guess from the blocks on their backs that all looked similar, if not quite the same, as Legion’s rifle when it was collapsed for travel. And she’d toured enough of Mistral’s outer, periphery settlements to recognize mercenaries when she saw them. 

And the way they moved, like liquid almost, made her wonder why they didn’t take up the job of fighting. Or rather, if they had in the past, and chose to come here after.

The dancing around the club slowed, but never really stopped, as the Geth walked by towards the raised platform at the back of the room where a figure stood. Whether the figure was watching the club or them, Pyrrha couldn’t be sure, but she had a feeling on which it actually was. 

“Weapons, Geth.” The alien - a Turian, from pictures Legion had shown her in their first weeks together - demanded as they walked to the base of the ramp up on the far side. Legion didn’t comment, simply handing over its pistol, and the alien gave Pyrrha’s sword a look and snorted as she handed it over. “A sword? Really?”

“It does the jobs I need it to do, yes. And their names are Milo and Akuo, though I… Do not know how much named weapons matter to you.” She rambled, watching the Turian shrug uncaringly and hand the collection off to a Batarian behind him, who dumped them unceremoniously in a bin on the floor and snorted at her affronted expression. 

“They’ll be fine, if they’re worth a damn as weapons.” The Turian snapped, turning to Legion at her side, “And you. You the same one that came around, a couple months back? Asking about... Asking about that dead Alliance woman, right?”

“Affirmative.” Legion answered, “This unit has been dubbed ‘Legion’ by Pyrrha Nikos. We are a terminal of the Geth.”

“Reason for coming?”

“We wished to ask new questions of Aria T’Loak.” The machine answered mechanically, adding after a second, “We brought Geth technology to trade, as per our previous agreements with your employer. Our intentions are peaceful.”

“Uh huh, uh huh… Where’d you get the girl, then?” The Turian’s mandibles flanged like Legion’s did, though she was certain they meant different things by the gestures. Before Legion could answer, he asked her, “Where’d the battery operated bastard take you from, huh? He buy you off some slavers? ‘Cus Omega is a lotta things, but we don’t tolerate Spirits depraved slavers around-”

“No! No, I’m not… Not a slave.” Gods, they had slavery to contend with? What manner of galaxy had she wound up in? Taking a breath, the Mistralian explained as best she could, keeping out the more… Fantastical elements. The Turian, for all his brutishness, seemed oddly concerned and good intentioned, but that didn’t mean he’d buy any story she spun. “We met on a planet- a Human one, I mean. He was damaged by a local garrison, and saved me from a-a… Woman.”

“A…” The alien paused, unsure now she’d defended the Geth so openly, “A woman? Who was attacking you?”

“Yes.” Pyrrha answered, sliding into a truth to fit her lie. It made her sick to do it, but she wouldn’t let Legion be insulted this way when she could fix it. And the truth would be called insanity, and likely worsen the situation, regardless. “Dark haired, and with amber eyes. She had… Abilities I’d never had to fight before. Hurled herself around, hit me with what felt like fire, I… Legion saved me. I would have died.”

“Like fire…?” 

“Sounds like biotics to me, shit looks and feels like fire if ya don’t know the difference.” The Batarian grunted, swaggering forward and cocking its head to the side. Four eyes narrowed on the two of them, both pairs flicking between woman and machine. “So what, he saved your ass all banged up, so you saved his?”

“Yes, he did. Though, all my saving constituted was covering him while we ran, so I feel undeserving of much credit.” It was a rather close end point to the true story, really. And she had zero doubts Legion would face Cinder if the fight came back around to knock. Seizing the moment, she added, “The Geth aren’t a bad people. No more than anyone else, and Legion has been nothing but kind to me.”

“Our intentions are peaceful.” Legion reiterated, “And further, we seek understanding of Organic species, in hopes of facilitating negotiations and agreements. We wish only to pursue that understanding. And Pyrrha Nikos has offered to help us do that. We are grateful, and would never harm her.”

“Well, isn’t that just the quaintest, sweetest little story I’ve heard all week.” A voice, smooth and chilling, called out from atop the ramp. The Asari woman descending waved for her guards to disperse and they did, moving several feet away where they could watch for any attempts against the woman but, Pyrrha was sure with the incessant music, not hear them speaking. Smiling a toothy smile, the woman, Aria Pyrrha now assumed, asked, “Legion was it?”

“Affirmative.”

“Great, Legion then. Come on, if we’re to talk about business we’ll do it where I can sit, at least.” She turned, waving a hand over her shoulder for them to follow and, after a moment, they did. 

By the time they got up into the box, where the music was muted by the thick glass, Aria was sitting on the long cough with a leg resting on her knee and her arms stretched along the back to either side. Legion came to a stop a few feet in front of her, at the center of the room, and Pyrrha stood beside him unsurely. 

“Sit down, girl, you don’t have to stand there looking like a freshman up to slaughter at a frat house or something.” Aria ordered, waiting until the Mistralian had sat beside the door opposite the one she’d come in to sigh and turn to the Geth. “You’re here, so I’m going to hazard a wild guess and say my information was on the money?”

“Affirmative.”

“Yeah… That her armor, then? No word of another N7 Human or Alliance ship giving up the ghost to the black in that sector, I’d have heard about it.” The Geth nodded its head slightly and Aria sighed, grimacing and shaking her head. When she spoke next, her voice was laced with agitation and her face was a mask, flat and plain as though hiding something. What, Pyrrha would never know, she was sure. Only that there was something she didn’t want to show. “Damn it… And you got that armor, so I’m guessing you scavenged it to wear. That about right?”

“There was a hole...”

“Yeah, and you patched it with dead Shepard’s armor- Fuck!” Aria leaned forward, shaking her head gently and clasping her hands together. “The Collectors? They do it? I heard rumors they were in the sector when the Normandy went down.”

“The ship sections showed signs of intensive thermal lance damage, which is not the norm for any Terminus mercenaries or pirates.” Legion answered simply, “Further, the site was not looted as pirates or mercenaries would do, and to destroy the ship so completely precludes efficient slaving tactics. Removing these variables, it is likeliest that the Collectors struck the Normandy, and they have the technology to do so by all evidence.”

“Motive?”

“Unknown.” Legion answered, waiting through the woman’s swear before moving on. “Given their preexisting habit of collecting unique technologies and individuals for study, however, it is possible they wanted to capture Shepard for examination and experimentation.”

“Her armor was there, though, so they couldn’t have.” The sentence was as much of a question as a statement, and Aria’s brow rose with it. “You… Didn’t find any of the body, did you?”

“It is possible it burned up on reentry, thin atmosphere or not.”

“The armor survived, though. Could parts of her have?” Aria demanded, voice low and even, though Pyrrha could feel the hate and anger there as she spoke. “Did the Collectors collect Jane fucking Shepard for their damn experiments?”

“Insufficient data available to draw reasonable conclusions.”

“Fucking of course- Corvex! Get your useless, Turian ass up here!” Aria shouted, waiting until the Turian from earlier jogged up the ramp to see what she wanted. Pointing at the alien, she ordered, “I want you to grab some men, and notify the mercenaries. Anyone dealing with Collectors will be evicted from the station via the nearest airlock. Understood?”

“Yes, Aria.”

The Turian turned to leave at a dismissive wave from the Asari, and Aria leaned back, letting them sit in silence for a while. Not an uncomfortable silence, surprisingly, but rather a cool one while the blue woman seemed to collect herself. A silence that passed for several minutes, long enough for the club’s song to change to something with a somehow faster beat, albeit lower and more withdrawn. 

“We’re even on the information, then, as we agreed. And you are allowed to achor at omega when you need to. I give you that much, but I can’t guarantee how the gangs act. Understood, both of you?” They nodded and Aria mirrored the gesture, “Good, good. Now, what do you need now? Or did you only come to give me your findings in person?”

“We are seeking the location of Shepard, Commander’s team members. All have been located aside from one.” Legion answered simply, “Do you know of a Garrus Vakarian?”

“Vakarian?” She paused to think and then shook her head, shrugging. “We get a lot of Turians, but that name doesn’t stand out as one of mine. Ask the Suns, though. He might have checked in with them, never know. Though actually, don’t, the Suns might not be friendly to a Geth in their territory.”

“Acknowledged.”

“I’ll ask around, though, and you’ll hear from me if I find anything out.” She promised, sighing and shaking her head. A finer rose and wagged at the Geth playfully, and she smiled, adding, “No charge up front, on that, though. Since I don’t know how it’ll turn out for you. Wouldn’t be fair, charging you for nothing.”

“We are grateful for fair dealings, Aria T'Loak.” Legion nodded, flanges flicking in consideration for a moment. Whatever it had been thinking about, it kept to itself, instead asking its next question. “What do you know of a planet named ‘Remnant’? It would likely not be in Alliance space or Citadel space, as we have checked their survey reports.”

“Legion-”

“Our companion originally hails from there and, if possible, we would offer to return her to her home planet. But such an offer would be a falsehood if we did not know where the planet was.” Legion explained, as much for Aria’s benefit and Pyrrha’s. Good intentioned and trying to help, she knew from their past interactions, though she was angry, in a way, that he hadn’t asked first. 

“Second verse, same as the first.” Aria sing-songed boredly, raising her brows, “Next?”

“We would like to purchase Pyrrha Nikos a better under armor suit to wear, but the merchants on Omega will not service us.” Legion explained, this time on a topic Pyrrha was happy he was asking about. 

She had need of an armored undersuit, she knew from Legion that they could protect her from space and, while she didn’t know much about space, she would like that. She’d have been lying if she said being on space ships and space stations didn’t terrify her. But she supposed dying already kind of tempered any intense reactions to fear, now. Understandable, she hoped, and not a sign of some deeper trauma she had no clue how to deal with.

“Give me the credits and sizing, I’ll put a man on it. Doing it as thanks for you coming in to tell me about Shepard, and I’m in a good damn mood, but don’t get used to it.” She nodded, waving her hand in a circle for them to move on. “Got shit to do, so are you done or what?”

“We have one final question.” The machine responded simply, the Asari in front of them furrowing her brows at the question. Either in confusion or for some other reason Pyrrha was, once again, not sure. “What do you know about the Reapers? Boards on the Extranet show evidence of a Reaper in the Hawking Eta region. We are interested in it.”

“I’ll look into it, stick around for, say, a week and come see me again.” She promised them, dismissing them moments after when they told her they had nothing else to talk about. 

“Oh and one other thing.” She called, just before they could leave, her eyes meeting Pyrrha’s, “You interest me. Might be the resemblance to Shepard, but… If you need anything, you come talk to me. My guards won’t raise a fuss, you can count on that. I hope you enjoy your time on Omega.”

“I… Thank you, Miss T’Loak.” She gave Legion a push and, sensing her anxiety or just being forced by her admittedly higher than normal strength, the machine hurried down the ramp. They collected their weapons and left in peace, with nary a problem beyond eyes following them out the doors. 

But at least there’d not been a fight…

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Xarthos :

Glad to satisfy. Or hope to, rather. 

Darth Reviewer :

Without spoilers? Yes, it would be technically possible. The real question is if and how Pyrrha might think about the idea. Unlocking Auras is, after all, meant to be an intimate thing to my belief. Not something done lightly. 

The Prime Cronos :

Yes I do. Hence sending her ass to Omega.

Soul of None :

See, kinda wish I had thought of that, now. XD

Dr Killinger :

Hey, what happens on Omega, happens because Aria lets it. So no one says fuck all about it. Seriously, though, there will be problems with Legion being around. Some were showcased here, on the less stabby and shooty end of the spectrum. 

Thermal Sniper N7 : 

Just remember her explanation. Only singular pieces can be directly influenced easily, beyond a certain point. Or they need to be small and light. So while yes, she has very clear advantages, she’s not god tier if you catch the drift. 

Merendinoe Miliano :

How…? How do I do Arkos in this, though? XD


	4. Chapter 4

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“Mass Relays interact with Element Zero contained and utilised by ship-board Mass Effect drives.” Legion explained for her while he sat in his pilot’s seat, taking readings of the glowing orange Relay thousands of miles away. She couldn’t see it from inside the ship, of course, but the quarters that Legion had bought them were exterior facing and gave them a wondrous view of it, regardless of its low cost. A cost explained to her as due to the risk of asteroids hitting the dingy little apartment, given they were on the outside. “This interaction induces the Mass Effect. A phenomenon that artificially lowers an object’s mass, lowering its gravitational field and thus allowing for it to be moved at exceptional speeds over long distances.”

“And the relays themselves are pointed along clear lines of space so ships don’t hit anything on the way. Like massive rifles firing ship.” She guessed, giving the machine next to her a quizzical look and grinning widely when it nodded to show she was right. 

“You seem pleased, Pyrrha.” The machine observed, causing the woman to flush.

“A-Ah, well, yes… I am pleased that I am learning what you are so kind to teach me so quickly.” She answered, fighting to keep her humility, she coughed into a hand to hide the smile and spoke, to cover the action more than anything. “I doubt I will ever understand the physics and mechanisms of the entire procedure, but I do need to know generalities, at the very least.”

“We are pleased that you are learning so adeptly.” Praise she was used to, from fanatics and sycophants mainly, but this was praise from a machine that didn’t care about earning her good graces. And so it had to be truly genuine, or it wouldn’t have said it, and that made her preen ashamedly, her humility fighting with her pride at it. 

“T-Thank you, Legion…”

As though sensing her internal conflict and seeking to draw amusement from it, the machine turned its head to her, speaking as its fingers flew across the holographic interface. “And your presence has facilitated in large part more close studies of organic species on Omega. We are truly grateful for this assistance.”

“O-Of course, Legion. I do not mind in the least.” Even if it meant being on the rancid smelling station and dealing with angry aliens often twice her size, and with sour attitudes to boot, she was happy to be of help. “I only wish we could do something to help people on Omega…”

 

“The people of Omega are not ones that readily accept help, unfortunately.” Geth responded, pressing a few keys and standing suddenly, the woman pushing off the wall beside the console and raising her eyebrows curiously. Seeing the question on her face, a skill the machine was steadily learning, it turned to her and explained, “We have completed our scans of the Omega Relay, and found a few anomalies. The data is being uploaded to the Geth collective and will be studied in more depth by them.”

“That’s, uh…” Disappointing, uninformative and anticlimactic… All apt descriptors, and none of them polite enough she would ever say them out loud. Not to her friend, whether he had feelings he expressed the same way she - or organics, rather - did or not. “Good. I hope you find information that helps you find out what you want to know about Shepard.”

Shepard was… Odd, to say the very least about the woman, in as many ways as she herself was almost. Which ought to have been impossible, given her death and godly reincarnation. But the woman was an enigma at the same time as having literally ninety percent of her life on the Extranet, which was an extraordinary feat. One could find out her cup size and her favorite food, on the same site oddly enough, but if one wanted to know her opinion on something? Or her beliefs? Her training, Brothers forbid? Anything that might be of value to understanding the woman under the black, bloodied armor she saw plastered across web banners and threads?

Nothing but silence and static, beyond rumor filled threads and conspiracy fuelling videos.

“Do not forget your hardsuit, Pyrrha. We are going to meet Aria once we arrive, which means traversin” The machine added as it stepped into the hallway and the wall slid open, letting it take some time to arm itself. Nothing fancy or new, just its semi-automatic marksman rifle and a blocky Predator pistol, which meant she couldn’t distract herself. 

Seeing her hesitation, the machine turned to her, “Please get dressed, we will be docking at Omega shortly, and you do not want to risk attack by the gangs there for being underdressed.”

“And I know, I’m attractive, and there’s… Unkind people that would seek to make money off it, if they could.” Slavers among them, Legion and Aria had explained when they’d come to get the form fitting thing. 

She was strong, smart, and attractive, and walking around with as much bare skin as she did drew that to the fore. Whereas on remnant, that had been purposeful, a style of herself as a Huntress and a show of her confidence, here it had none of that cultural inclination and information. 

None of these people knew what a Huntress was. Or rather, what her kind of Huntress was, as the Asari apparently had an order of warriors who held the same name, or some such. But still, it didn’t make her feel better to wear the thing, even as comfortable as it was.

“Protection isn’t something you have to enjoy, Pyrrha, but you still have to do it. You agreed to this as part of protecting your friend.” The mantra was one she had to repeat often now, whenever this kind of irksome thing came up. 

She’d done it at Beacon, too, when Jaune’s obliviousness had left her in the cold. Or, somehow worse, spending long hours alone with him under a romantic sky with nary a romantic sentiment from him for it. Grimacing, she chided herself, “Don’t think about that, Pyrrha, you need to focus. Not get upset and lose your cool. Just focus on the hardsuit.”

That chiding reminder always worked.

She hated her hardsuit, after all, so it was an adequate distraction.

It felt like something out of films meant for less than savory purposes, to her at least, though Aria had barked a laugh at the murmured statement and explained it was simply Asari style. They were a sexually confident species after all so they didn’t largely have much to hide physically. And mono-gendered as well as strange as that was to consider even now a week after Aria had explained it to the ‘ignorant colonial’ as she’d been dubbed, which could be technically true so she’d let it go. 

Every Asari looked similar, even by Aria’s admission, thus the face paints and skin inking they had adopted from the Turians, and even beyond that they were practically ageless. She wasn’t prone to such things, but she felt certain that after fifty years, a woman’s behind in tight armor would grow stale. Familiarity robbed a thing of uniqueness, after all, which was why her first battle with a beowolf had left her quivering and the hundredth had been entirely without ceremony.

For all her vitriol, disquiet and embarrassment in wearing it, it was a rather simple thing though. 

Hers was of a lighter bent than some Asari, at Legion and her own request alike when Aria had talked about it, to let her wear her armor and skirt over it. Legion’s explanation, and the one she’d gone with, had been that she needed the extra armor, while the actual explanation was that she didn’t like the way it accentuated her behind and bust. Aria had of course asked why, and Pyrrha had explained what she was and how she fought, albeit without the mentions of Aura, Semblances or her origin point. Aria had chuckled amusedly and then given her the armored suit, on the added condition Pyrrha return to ‘show off’ those skills sometime soon. 

Which, Pyrrha supposed, was why they were on their way back now to go and see her.

The armored suit came in dark grey-black across the entirety with inbuilt shoes, of sorts, with soft, white soles and sides that could fit into her armored boots comfortably. It fitted to her form through means that had been partially explained - some sort of automated suction feature to adhere it to her - but, thankfully, didn’t do so in a way that inhibited her movement. And though it hugged her tight enough she almost felt like people were touching her, there was no other adequate comparison for it to her mind, and while she could wear things over it she couldn’t wear anything under it.

Including her shorts, thus her embarrassment if she didn’t wear her skirt and sash over top of the ensemble. And her cuirass besides, of course, though that she had the honest argument of protection for.

The gloves were a piece she enjoyed, though, with a textured grip meant to help maintain a hold on an automatic weapon while firing. She’d already tried it, but nothing short of letting a weapon go outright tended have her lose her grip, which made the white-palmed piece a nice addition. Her neck was more protected now as well, with a thick fabric wrapped around it that capped the base of her skull, just under her hair at the back and under her chin at the front. It, too, she’d tested herself, drawing the edge of her blade along it and not managing to damage it beyond some surface scrapes.

From her palm, at the juncture of her thumb and forefinger, and the outside of her ankles both, a finger’s width white line climbed smoothly along the outside of her limbs and around her neck’s fitted collar. It then dove down, between the curve of her breasts, and opened on her stomach in a wide white swathe that looked to her like a lizard’s underside, with the small almost scale work that made up the suit. 

In her armor as she was now, one couldn’t tell, but without the armored greaves and leather cuirass, she looked rather like a lizard. 

“But you don’t look like on in your armor, so no one will know.” She told herself, stretching in her quarters with her armor on, as much to limber herself as to check the straps of her equipment and ease out the undersuit. Grimacing, she realized, “Except Aria… Who got this for me and knows exactly what I look like.”

“Are you clothed?” Geth asked after rapping a metal knuckle on her closed door the way she’d taught it to. There’d been a few incidents that had led up to that, once she’d had her own room and wanted some privacy.

Thankfully, between them, she was the only one that cared about whether or not Legion saw what was under her shirt. 

“Yes, I’m decent.” She answered, putting aside the memories of her awkwardly explaining what knocking was and why it was important. Adjusting a greave, she added, “You can come in, Legion. I’m almost ready to go, I just need to check a couple things first.”

“If you are ready, we must depart.” Legion answered as the door opened and the ship shuddered. Its flanges flicked and it added needlessly, “We are at Omega, and Aria is waiting on us. It would not do to make her wait, she has a history of impatience and we need her permission to operate on Omega.”

“I know, Legion, and we won’t make her wait.” She stood with the words and flicked her arms, summoning Milo and Akouo to her hands and rolling her shoulders. With a smile, she shrugged and finished with, “I’m ready now. Aria wants a display of my abilities, for her own amusement or for whatever other reason, and I do not mind giving her it.”

“I believe she means for you to fight one of her guards.”

 

“I had anticipated as much, yes.” A spar would, after all, be the easiest way to get a measure of her capabilities. Stepping past legion, she spoke over her shoulder while they walked to the cargo bay and, beyond it, to their quarters on Omega at large. “Do not worry for me, Legion. I have fought monsters that dwarf anything anyone on this station as likely seen.”

“That is unlikely. Thresher Maws are common beasts for mercenaries to run into on missions and Aria T’Loak’s forces are entirely made up of-”

“It’s a turn of phrase, Legion.” She chuckled, using her Semblance to wrench open the old, rusted and marred hatch that let into their quarters. It screeched its protest as usual but let them through and Pyrrha gave the machine a small, amused smile as they stepped through the empty, rusted brown colored, one room apartment. “All it means is that I can fight well enough that I am not worried about a little spar between her own guards and myself.” 

“Acknowledged.” The machine agreed quietly, walking a step behind her as she looked over the apartment. 

“People use them to make points more quickly than spelling it out would cost. It’s… About efficiency, I suppose.” There wasn’t even a proper bathroom, just a small bowl set against the outside wall that would vent into space at the press of a button. Not that it mattered, with the ship attached and having its own facilities. Still, she went on “Maybe she would agree to some prize money? We could use it to decorate.”

“...Acknowledged.” The machine finally answered, sealing the hatch behind them. It didn't specify which statement of hers it had acknowledged exactly, and she didn’t ask. Instead, before she really could ask, it offered a chipper, “We wish you luck in your spar regardless, Pyrrha.”

“I thought machines wouldn’t believe in luck.”

“We do not.” The machine answered, an edge of… Humor to its voice, somehow, as its flanges twitched. “It was a ‘turn of phrase’, Pyrrha.”

Outside their so-called apartment was a veritable maze of winding, catacomb-like tunnels made of alternating slabs of asteroidal stone, grated metal and a litany of different floors besides. Metal tiles, ancient, cracked and ruined stone tiles, pipes encrusted by dirt after doubtless centuries of passersby treading on them. The doors that led into the housing units varied equally as much, from recessed hatches with pipes around them like a spider’s web to smooth stone buildings, and rusted sheet metal constructs that looked more cobbled together than built, per se. It was as though every compartment, floor and section had been assembled over centuries by a thousand different empires, companies and peoples.

Which, to her knowledge on the matter, was actually rather close to the truth.

Navigation way blessedly simple with a Geth around, of course. It had simply downloaded a map of the station, and they used it to navigate the various walkways, impromptu marketplaces, stairs and elevators. Some of the people they brushed by, or had to squeeze past with their hands on their weapons in some tighter and more packed avenues, stared at them. Some gazes were curious, some leered at her, some glared at him, but none made a move against them.

Geth instilled fear and hate, and the former kept the common man in line.

When they reached Afterlife near an hour later, the club was, for the first time since she’d first walked up to it over a week prior, silent. For the briefest moment she worried the place had been attacked and she paused at the end of the accessway, after they’d passed the mad Batarian preacher on their way up the elevator system from their much lower, exterior docking point. 

But the worry, ingrained deeper in her psyche than she’d ever admit from Beacon’s fall, vanished in the same moment it appeared. There was still a trio of guards in front of the doors, and a line of those who wanted into the club in front of those guards, arguing, pushing each other, and generally heckling for entry into the vaunted club. Oddly, she noticed a distinctly higher number of Krogan, some sporting uniform colors and insignias, among the lined up waiters.

They only held her gaze for a moment, though, before it was ripped away to something else. Along with her breath.

A blonde young man among them turned to his Turian friend, smiling a wide smile and grabbing the lithe alien’s talons in his hands, bouncing on the spot excitedly. Her own eyes widened at the gesture, a Krogan laying a hand on the young man’s shoulders and holding him still, speaking too quietly to hear but earning a good natured eye roll from the Human regardless.

“Jaune…” Her heart clenched, even as she catalogued the dozens of differences between the blonde and her blonde. The height difference, the lack of a sword, the energetic Nora-like exuberance, all told her that this was someone else. 

It didn’t stop her heart thrumming in her breast, or her hands shaking, or her eyes watering, or-

“Pyrrha.” She flinched and turned at the voice, Legion’s level gaze meeting hers plainly. The flourescent bulb that was its face twitched and rotated, taking her in while its mandibles flicked and flinched expressively. Finally it pushed her away from the door and against one of the windows that looked out on the station’s insides spanning far and away and, voice low, asked, “Are you well? You appear to be in distress.”

“I-I am quite alright, I just…” Saw a blonde person and had a panic attack? What was she supposed to really say about that, really? Instead she sighed and, gently, pushed the machine back a step, smiling so it knew she wasn’t angry. “I had a moment, Legion. That is all.”

“Due to what happened to you on your homeworld?” It asked, carefully constructing the question to avoid prying ears no doubt. Legion was surprisingly adept at considering those kinds of things. 

“Yes, I…” Didn’t know what to say, really. Forcing another smile she shrugged and sighed, “I saw someone that looked like someone from my home.” At Legion’s surprised turn, clearly searching the crowd for someone like her enough to distinguish, she giggled quietly and added, “I was mistaken, Legion.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes, they…” She sighed, leaning against the low piping and hoping that no one was paying them too much mind. A hard ask, with a Geth standing in front of her, but still a hope she held out for nonetheless. Though she would not be checking to see, for the same dark blue and black reason. “They looked similar enough to shock me, but they are here with friends. Alien friends. And once I looked closer, a thousand differences sprang up. I just…”

“It is common among Human psychology for those suffering from traumatic stress disorders to suffer from panic attacks when exposed to triggers.” Its flanges twitched and it turned back to her, adding in a grave tone. “We believe it likely that blondes are such a trigger for you. Perhaps we should avoid them in future, Pyrrha.”

“Legion, I don’t think the hair color is what mattered, really.” Or maybe it was a part of the problem, she mused, unable to be sure on the matter. Regardless, she pushed off the piping and sighed. “It’s a combination of things, really… And I’m a warrior, Legion. I can get past this, I just need time.”

“Pyrrha, you have been through what virtually no other organic could claim to have been through.” Legion argued gently, or as gently as a machine could do anything really. Which wasn’t a slight, it was actually… Rather good at being kind, as it was now. “If you are in ways damaged as a result, we will offer no judgement. Instead we would like to endeavour to find you treatment as we are-”

“No, Legion!” She snapped, harsher than she meant to. The machine flinched, eye rotating back and flanges flicking and then halting suddenly around its head like small flower petals, and she grimaced. Sighing, she spoke slowly and deliberately, hoping not to hurt Legion’s feelings, such as they were, any more than she already had, “I’m not broken, Legion. I don’t need some doctor rooting around in my head, I can get over this my self.”

“But-”

“I appreciate the concern, Legion. I truly do, and can’t explain properly how grateful I am for it.” She cut him off again, smiling gently and offering a small, firm nod. “I am more than adult enough to deal with my own emotions, I assure you. I just need you to trust me, alright?”

“...Acknowledged.” The machine answered simply, turning and resuming its walk towards the club. “In that case, we must be under way. Aria T’Loak has already been made to wait, and she does not like being made to wait.”

“Yes, let’s not keep her waiting any longer… Not over me, at any rate.” She agreed. But… Was she crazy, or did Legion sound almost angry? Its voice was lower and warbled differently, almost like an inflection. 

The reason for the club’s lack of music in the main club at least had an easy, readily seen explanation.. 

As always when she’d needed to come to Afterlife, the round tables that surrounded the raised platform in the middle of the room were full to brimming, with those unable to sit instead standing around the table. Some leaned against walls, others sat on crates and even more had climbed up on the boxy walls and compartments that ringed the club’s main room, where even more crates had been set up in rings of seats and tables, lower crates for the former and taller ones for the latter. Here and there, women moved carrying food and drink and lacking various amounts of clothing, the dancers that normally stood on the tables, along the walls and on top of the tall central platform serving as waitresses now rather than dancing, though they walked mostly nude regardless and Pyrrh tried to ignore it.

And the confusion over that lasted only a moment, before her eyes landed on the platform itself, where no dancers stood plying their, er, wares as it were.

Instead, from the floor of it to the ceiling, thick chain link fencing had been fixed into place, the lights at the apex of the room over the bar bright and shining down on the platform. Every few feet, the same poles the dancer’s used, as far as she could tell, had been moved to the edge of the platform and used as anchor points for the fencing. A massive, reinforced and iron seat sat in one corner of the very roughly octagonal arena, with another far smaller stool on the opposite end clearly intended for her.

All in all, the night club looked less like a seedy bar and exotic dancing venue and more like… Well, like a tournament ground, she supposed.

“Ah, the woman of the hour has finally arrived!” Pyrrha jumped at the sound and looked to Aria’s little VIP room, the woman standing with her hands on her hips and narrowed eyes. With a wave of her hand, she directed everyone to where the young redhead was and added, “And you brought your robot friend, too! Awesome. We’ve all been waiting for you, Little Red.”

Inside a second, every eye in the club was on her. Some oggled her like she always had to deal with from the crowd while others considered her a mere curiosity they soon grew bored with, and still others looked at her judgingly. Analytically more like, she supposed, looking her up and down and gauging her abilities ahead of the coming fight. The latter she was used to as well, though she was not used to it coming from a veritable horde of aliens that looked mildly like a cross between lizards, turtles and an encounter with a large, angry cat.

One of those Krogan, old looking and wearing dark, ruddy orange armor pitted with bullet scars and crossed by what looked almost like claw marks, began climbing up and into the improvised arena. His skin was a pale yellow, almost to match the armor, but his scarred crest burned a bright red like a raw wound. Beyond that, though, he looked like any other Krogan mercenary, with the same heavy, thick armor they all wore, albeit more heavily scarred and weathered.

Seemingly tired of waiting, or wanting eyes back on her Pyrrha could never tell with Aria, the woman called out for attention. 

“Now that our guest of honor has finally arrived, we can begin! Some introductions and then we can watch a real, Omega branded brawl ladies and gentleman!” The woman beamed a vicious smile, letting the crowd roared its approval for a moment before raising her hands to either side of herself in a request - demand, really, Aria didn’t request anything - for silence. “Now, on the one hand, we have an eight hundred year old, battle hardened, Krogan warrior right out of Tuchanka, paid for my personal protection, Kralt Taratog.”

For a moment, the crowd was lost again in distinctly Krogan roars of approval, the warrior grinning ferally and pounding his fists together for the attention. The action sent tremors through his armor, his shoulder pauldrons shaking, but the young Huntress ignored it.

Boastful flexing and posing was meaningless, she knew from experience, and the more someone did it the more likely they were to lose as far as she could tell.

“On the other hand, we have a young woman hailing from a far away, backwater world that isn’t even on any of my charts. A tournament champion, according to her own words, who fights with a spear and a shield! Like something out of a movie, isn’t it?” Aria laughed and the crowd joined her, every eye watching her climb up into the ring herself. Some even hurled various bits of detritus her way, but she dodged them as deftly as she would anything else and pulled the fence shut behind her. “Give us a good show, Nikos.”

“I intend to.” She called back, earning another feral smile from the woman. 

“You had better.” Aria sneered imperiously, “Because the one who loses this fight gets banned from Omega for the rest of their lives.”

Her eyes widened, but it was far too late to back down now. Instead, she flicked her arms and called her weapons to her, sword unfolding into its spear form in her hand. She let it rest against the ground and sighed, murmuring a simple, “Well, I hope this is entertaining enough for you, God…”

It certainly wasn’t for her.

(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)

Side note, when Pyrrha mentions prize money, it is meant as a remark on her having participated in tournaments which, no doubt, had prizes for their winners to take. Just to clarify.

Further, Pyrrha’s refusal to get help for her problems is not in any way an insult to anyone. Many people, myself included, are brought up in an environment that precludes seeking help for emotional and mental problems. ‘Just be a man’ is a saying that furthers this, for instance. Why would the Goddess of Victory, the perfect warrior, Pyrrha Nikos be raised to accept being broken inside?

(~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~)

Omega Ultima :

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Your poor keyboard~!


	5. Chapter 5

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His talons sought out and found the flaw he’d felt inside a few minutes, his prized Mantis in pieces scattered around him, the shoddy, old and worn down inertial dampening system. The seventh he’d been through, purchased from the most ‘reputable’ smuggler that ran between here and the Citadel. Albeit with a few dozen stops before here, and the middle-aged Turian’s complete knowledge that reputable and smuggler belonged in the same sentence as much as ‘fun poison’ or ‘a good day with Saren’.

“Just the nature of Omega, I guess.” He sighed, turning on the low, rusty stool and flicking the piece across the tiny room he was in. 

One of many ‘safehouses’ his crew ran across the station, this one had the downside of being little more than a glorified closet just large enough to fit in a small cot that could comfortably fit half his frame, and a long desk from the edge of the bed to the wall the door was set into, only a couple feet away with a small hatch that would let down for him to use the toilet, before disappearing it off to somewhere he didn’t care about. Probably right off into space, if he had to guess, since he doubted anyone cared to actually bother with a water treatment and refinery system.

Again, though, just the nature of Omega.

And not one that even a rifle with a functioning inertial absorption unit would help with, much less his current paper weight, to boot.

“Maybe I should sent Krantus to the Citadel itself. Hate bein’ down a rifle...” He murmured, leaning over his table and staring down at the disassembled weapon. His old, weather beaten and combat aged Avenger rested propped at the back of the table in full form, of course, and he could easily use it, but… “A marksman’s weapon it is not, even if it’s damn fine as an assault rifle.”

No amount of recoil dampening upgrades, barrel bore extenders, armor piercing processors or even expensive, hard to maintain sometimes, scope interfaces. The little devices were small, his attached to the back of the Avenger’s curve, but integrated right into helmets and eyepieces like he wore. They were nifty things, able to zoom, swap between thermal and other settings and more. It also cost him enough he could have bought a gunship, not that he had any illusions about which was more useful.

Gunships were too obvious, after all, and easy targets in a fight.

“Can always deal with it later, and don’t have any option otherwise.” He finally decided, setting to work arraying the parts in small, rusty containers to keep specific parts separate and easily found - or noticed missing if they were stolen - when he wanted to fix the rifle. 

Which would take some time to do, while he waited on a usable internal recoil dampener to show up or for someone to go get it, unless he wanted to forego it. Which would probably be ‘dying’ levels of bad, so he wasn’t all that enthusiastic to do that any time soon.

Giving up, he turned on the stool and leaned against the table, pressing a long talon to his ear-piece and asking, “Sidonis, do you know what’s going on yet? It’s been an hour past already, report in with something or I’ll feed you to a Krogan.”

“He wasn’t going to eat me, I explained that to you, Arch. Just… Beat me to death and feed me to his Varren, which is a different thing and you know it so don’t start.” Sidonis’ smooth, metallic voice echoed through his ear piece almost as soon as Garrus finished speaking. Garrus only snorted in answer, so Sidonis could properly make a report. “Aria cleared out the dancers from the center stage, like you though. Most of ‘em are down in the lower club, some are up in the upper one, sitting in laps or waiting tables for tips, you know how it can be here sometimes.”

“Yeah, I do.” He’d spent enough time in Afterlife, wearing cheap, shoddy armor painted in nondescript, clearly mercenary colors and with an Asari half-naked on his lap or table leaching his Credits. Not his favorite way to pass time, but you could learn a lot by watching all of the patrons, and a Turian standing shock still in the corner watching everyone was fairly obvious. “Not the first time she’s shoved debtors, or people she didn’t like, in a cage up there to duke it out and amuse her. Who’s the unfortunate son of a bitch, then? Anyone we know?”

“No, I don’t know her, and the only Krogan we’re friends with is sleeping right now.” Sidonis’ answer was instant, a testament to the Turian man’s surety of the statement. “She’s up against a Krogan. Big scarred bastard of one, too. Old. A veteran of mercenary companies, if I had to put down some credits.”

“Do we need to intervene?”

“It’s Afterlife.” This answer was equally firm and fast, the older C-Sec veteran grimacing at it. “You know she doesn’t care what we do, Arch, because it doesn’t fuck with her.”

“And if we go in on Afterlife, that’ll change and we’ll end up deader than good samaritans on Omega.” He grimaced at the accuracy of the saying and then sighed at the situation entirely, shaking his head and ordering, “Standby there, then. Stay and watch the fight, or buy a prostitute for the night. Alina, if you can find her. She’s quiet about whatever she sees, and liable to take a payday even if you don’t take her home.”

“The green haired Human?”

“Yeah, usually works the upper floor, but-”

“Just watched her walk out with a pair of Humans.” Sidonis interrupted, earning a frustrated swear from his commanding officer. Sidonis, good natured as he always tried to be, let him vent for a moment before explaining simply. “Look, I’ll put some credits down on the fight. Bet for the Human girl, then storm out like I’m pissed when she loses.”

“A good enough plan.” Even if he didn’t like using the young woman’s death to skate out of Afterlife, he couldn’t help her. So he may as well make use of her, help take down the bastards doing all of this. “Get her name down for me, too. We’ll meet up after the fight in safehouse four and run it. Money says slavers.”

“A Geth came in with her…”

“Money says Geth, now.” He growled, talons on his other hand flicking in agitation. A Geth kidnapping a girl and selling her to Aria to… To what? Entertainment didn’t make sense, Geth didn’t need it and Aria almost exclusively used these little fights for vendettas. “What’s the girl’s name, Sidonis?”

“Uh, something Nikos- Pyrrha, Pyrrha Nikos.” The other Turian didn’t ask why Garrus wanted to know, knowing that he’d be sending the name out immediately into the Extranet. Searching for the girl’s origin. To that end, he added, “Long red hair, pale skin, green eyes. Wears what looks like bronze armor, probably painted, and a leather cuirasse of some kind. Carries… A shield and a spear?”

“Seriously?” He knew better than to question whether Sidonis was telling the truth, though. If Sidonis said it, he trusted him at his word. They were comrades, after all, and Shepard would skin him for doubting his squad if she were here. “Whatever, anything else you can say? Anything anyone said?”

“No, except Aria used a clearly made up planet name for where she’s from. Remnant? Pfft.” Covering her trail, then, though Sidonis didn’t say that. 

“Yeah, clearly fake… I’ll punch it into my search protocols regardless, though. Might mean something somewhere.” And if nothing else, that had his instincts running wild with questions and curiosities. He couldn’t place it, but it felt important he find out about her. Enough so he brought out his Omni-Tool right then, patching into his secure line to feed through to the Citadel and run a missing persons search. “If she survives, let me know, and try and trail her.”

“Planning to recruit her?”

“If she wins? Maybe.” Though he doubted it, there was nothing saying a Human woman skilled enough to match up to a Krogan couldn’t sign on with him. “But no, I want to see if we can’t rescue her.”

“Why?”

“Because she needs it?” He had to fight not to snap, and still did so a little bit. He’d apologize later, he eventually decided.

“No, I meant, why risk Aria’s attention?”

“Ah.” A good question, really, and not one he had a real answer to. Or at least, not a real, fact backed answer that he could give his partner right then. Instead, he offered a simple, “My gut says it’s the right call. Like something's telling me that she’s important. How, I dunno, all I got is that I feel like we have to help her.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s what made me intervene and save your scrawny ass, so yeah.” It was true, too. He'd not wanted to start out so obvious, face uncovered, with pissing off the Blood Pack. But seeing Sidonis’ face, mandible cracked and bleeding, he couldn’t walk away. Something compelled him to step in. “Just… Trust me, okay?”

“Sure, boss.” He could almost hear Sidonis’ shrug, and did hear his sigh, through the comms. Sarcastic bastard that he was, he added a last, “You’re the team leader, after all. You say jump, I ask what cliff.”

With a laugh, Garrus clicked off the line and shook his head, sighing and pulling his Avenger down to work on it while he waited. It’s heat emission system needed cleaning, he knew, just from looking it over.

XxX----XxX----XxX

“So, Mister Kralt-”

“That’s the clan name. Surname, I think you soft skinned Humans call it. I’m addressed by Taratog, or even just Tog.” Taratog interrupted, voice rumbling the foot between them easily even over the din of the talking, whooping and cheering crowd around them. Hands on his surprisingly slim hips, the warrior pushed them forward to stretch and added. “I’ll try not to kill ya when I beat you into the ground, though, no need to beg. Or act all respectful neither, I ain’t gonna try harder to off you if you call me names or nothin’.”

“Bold of you.”

“Hm?” The Krogan, standing a foot taller than her, almost, yet still at eye level for the contribution his armored hump made to his height. His eyes, she assumed it was male at least, narrowed and he grunted, “What’s bold of me, little Red?”

“Assuming you either will or can win a fight with me. It’s very daring.” She answered simply, smiling when the great alien humphed a laugh and shook his scarred head in amusement. Satisfied to see he was of presumably good temperament, and not of some grandstanding, showboating nature, she offered a hand, letting her spear stand alone under the influence of her Semblance. “Pyrrha Nikos, and it’s an honor to fight you, sir Taratog.”

“Hah! I like you, Pyrrha.” The alien barked another laugh and leaned close, reaching out to clasp her by the forearm and squeezing. Hard enough to need her Aura to protect her, in fact, like he was testing her to see if she’d balk with his hand on her. When she didn’t, the Krogan chuffed again and let her go, lumbering back a step. “I like you a lot, Pyrrha. A good fight to you!”

“And to you as well, Taratog.” She nodded, flicking her hand to the side with it inverted and recalling her spear. The weapon spun fast enough to whistle as the metal cut through the air, landing with the point down. Until, that was, she swept her leg back and brought her shield up, the long weapon resting against its rim while she peered over the protective implement’s edge and smiled. 

“Now,” she started quietly, “do we need to say any more?”

As it turned out, they didn’t, and Taratog knew it as well as she did. As easily and naturally as she did, rather.

With a mighty shout that, to her virgin ears, sounded like a bestial, Grimm roar, the Krogan loped forward the few steps it needed to close with her and reared a fist back. She ducked back easily, lashing out with a hand to strike the back of his armored wrist as the fist sailed through the air a few inches above her shield and before her face. To one not trained to spot her Semblance, the meaning would be missed entirely, mistakenly taken for an attempt to push his arm aside. 

Evidently, he believed as much, barking a laugh and swinging the arm back, replaced with a blow aimed for her gut. Fortunately for her, his fist found her shield in the way and, though the force of a Krogan punch set her sliding across the smooth surface and sent tingles reverberating across her arm, she was well enough. Even better, she launched back at the surprised alien from her spot, leaping and turning to hurl the bronze disk for his head. 

The blow struck true and, ringing, the weapon was sent reeling into the air while Taratog’s head snapped back and he stumbled. Krogans were strong, but a Huntress was strong as well, and her Semblance let her accelerate her weapons to add even more force to her strikes. Combined with the surprise of it, she’d off balanced the Krogan warrior well enough, and saw the opening she’d made for what it was. He did too, bright orange eye looking at her as the warrior brought a foot back to catch himself.

She didn’t care, though, and launched in regardless.

Spear gripped in both hands she slammed her shoulder into his chest, trying to force him back further. This time, though, he anticipated her greater strength than should be, strictly speaking, possible for a normal Human. And so her off shoulder struck a brick wall as the alien finally recovered, teeth bared and gritting against each other as his left hand snapped back to cudgel her away. With practiced ease, fighting Ursai rather than sparring partners admittedly but the same principles applied, she ducked under the blow and his arm, sinking to her knees and using her Semblance to spin herself by the metal of her greves and pulled around him. 

 

Rising fluidly and easily, she thrust the point of her spear into the back of his calf muscle, just below the knee where she hoped for softer flesh than his hardened hide was elsewhere. She only penetrated a half-inch, but when she withdrew she saw blood flow and nodded in satisfaction. Pulling the weapon back in one hand, she reached out with the other to tag his armored thigh and stepped back and away from him, off to the side, to dodge a sweeping, clubbing blow aimed for her head. Turning on her heel, she recalled her shield on instinct and turned to him, raising the weapon warily.

The blue wreathed fist that slammed home, though, did so with ludicrously more force than she’d expected. Her guard bucked, her Aura flared, and she cried out in surprise and pain as she was hurled bodily across the platform. Her back struck a metal pole, being used to anchor the fencing, and dented it from the force of it all. For only a moment, she was stunned, weapons and arms limp at her side while her ears rang and she fought for breath.

It was all Taratog needed, grabbing her by the throat and turning, again wreathed in blue as he hurled her once more across the room and away from her weapons. Even if he didn’t know of her Aura, the goal was obvious, and her lucid mind pulled it to the fore readily. To separate her from her weapons and come to finish the job, either by killing her or breaking her beneath his boots until Aria was satisfied. Assuming Aria could be satisfied, of course, that same lucidity pitched for her.

Her irrational mind, though, pointed out that her back ached now but that she could breathe again, Aura having dampened the second blow with the few seconds of warning she’d had to do so.

‘Left thigh, right hand. Biotics are a problem, though… Need to wait for the perfect moment, and do this right.’ She thought to herself as she staggered up and watched Taratog approaching, lumbering forward with hard eyes, blue wreathed fists curled at his sides. But, she noticed, he was smiling. 

And she was too.

And that struck her as kind of odd, for the split second she considered it. 

The first blow crackled over head as she knelt, the Biotic power ripping apart the chain and sending a hunk of the piping she’d dented across the room outside the arena as she did. Shouting her defiance, she rose and pelted a blow into his stomach ineffectually, followed by a dozen more rapid, weak, useless strikes across his chest and stomach. As many as she could get out, before his other arm snapped around into her stomach and launched her up, presumably into the air. She went with the momentum and leapt, even as she cried out and her breath was stolen yet again, to gain as much space as she could to go for her weapons.

Taratog, though, was too fast and too smart to allow that. His meaty right arm snapped out like lightning, far faster than she’d though possible really, to latch around her ankle. The same ankle that, two months and change prior, Cinder had crippled with an arrow. He didn’t break the limb though, turning and instead slamming her into the ground hard enough the steel shrieked and cracked, and she bounced off it. She landed on her side and curled up, arms guarding her midsection as a mighty boot slammed into the limbs and sent her sailing and sprawling through the air.

When she hit the ground, she rolled and lay, groaning, while the Krogan called out, “No one could get up from that, T’Loak. Call the fight, unless you want her dead.”

“How disappointing.” She heard Aria’s voice, augmented by the speaker system around them, growl. “Very well, then, it seems our fun is- Oh my.”

Grunting, she brought her leg up under herself and stood, Aura assuaging what it could of her bruises while her shield hand came up to wipe at her mouth. When she looked at it, she saw blood and heard the Krogan call out, “Don’t do it, girl. I don’t want to kill you, you have a quad big enough a warlord could get jealous.”

“I certainly hope you are joking, Tog, because I have plenty left in the tank.” With a flick of her wrist, and most of the last of her Aura, she called her weapons to her and smiled through bloody teeth. “I’m still standing, I’m still fighting, the Mistralian way.”

“Hah…” Without another word, the Krogan charged, bellowing his fury and, from his face, admiration as he went. 

In answer, she spun and hurled her shield with all the power she could muster, sending it sailing towards him and to the side, as though it would miss. He knew it, too, eyes sliding from it to her as her trap was sprung. Using her Semblance she suddenly, violently yanked every individual plate of armor on his chest to the side along with his right arm, just as his right leg came up so that the metal she’d tagged there made him sink to a knee in surprise. The shield, now on track, struck his crest head on and he snarled in pain as she leapt high and hurled the spear down, the shield clattering away behind him as blood flowed cross the scar of the thin plating of his forehead.

WIth a wet, hollow thunk it slammed into his shoulder and her roared, just before her knee met his sternum with all the force of a Huntress’ fall augmented by her Semblance. Without hesitation, she spent her Aura to call her spear to her and flicked a button, shifting it to rifle form and trying to bring it to his crest.

One point three seconds was how long it took to shift between forms, and that went to one and a half from rifle to spear. A marginal amount of time, she’d been told. 

But enough for his fist to lash out, this time lacking the blue energy, and catch her across the jaw hard enough she was sent reeling. She landed on her back and he followed as fast as he could, the woman rising as his boot lashed out and caught her square in the forehead, stunning her and ripping a gash in her flesh as she was slammed back into the ground. Stunned or not she snarled and rolled to the side, just in time to dodge a stomp that crushed the metal plating where her leg had been a moment ago. 

Another meaty punch caught her stomach and then, this one glowing electric blue, yet another caught her square across the jaw and sent her reeling back.

“Fall down, before you die, girl.” The Krogan ordered as she, through force of will alone, stayed standing, listing to one side and staring at him through one eye. The other’s sight was lost to red blood, she knew. 

Turning, she spat the blood pooled in her mouth free and spoke, tasting iron, “M’ still standin’, aren’ I?”

“Yeah, you are.” The Krogan growled, lumbering towards her and shaking his head. When he stepped close enough, she lashed out, aiming a punch for his throat that did nothing. He caught her by the wrist, then, and slammed his forehead into hers once and then twice, coming back with her own blood rolling down his face.

The last thing she saw was his curt, respectful nod, before she saw the room flash by and felt her back hit cold steel. Distantly, she heard chuckling and felt something, like an echo of power or energy, before it faded away and she knew nothing but the bliss of unconsciousness.

XxX----XxX----XxX

Pyrrha’s eyes shot open a half-second later and she hissed at the bright, blinding light around her, recoiling and scrambling back a couple inches with her arm over her eyes. Inside a short moment she noticed a laundry list of things, not the least of which was the lack of aches across her body. A body that should have been battered and bruised, not to mention bleeding at least to some extent, even if she’d been out for a while. 

Like her wounds, she noticed quickly, she couldn’t actually sense any pain from the sudden brightness around her, having reacted on sheer instinct to it when her eyes snapped open and she saw it. Along with a familiar warmth that had her frown at the recognition, she felt a thin sheen of water on the ground around her and sighed. She’d been here once before, now she had a moment to collect herself.

And so, with a grimace, she forced her eyes open and looked up at the eerie smile of the purple God of Darkness, standing with hands clasped behind his back and leering down at her with a grin. “Why, hello again, young Nikos. I must say, you put on quite a good show for that blue little wannabe deity, didn’t you?”

“Am I dead?” She blurted when she tried to respond, flushing and grimacing as she sat up, legs folded under herself while she stared up at the deity. “Did I die already again? I should have been able to absorb that kind of-”

“Oh, no, no, not dead. My, you mortals have such a deep seated, carnal fear of time’s march, don’t you?” The deity answered, actually chuckling at the glare she shot him and waving a hand dismissively. “Do not pout, child, you will be well when I release you. Sore, but alive at the least. Be grateful.”

“I am.” And she really was, too, for a second chance at life. Though that brought forth a question, “Why am I here then, Lord? What is it that you could desire of me?”

“I wanted to see how long you would take to notice if I brought you here naked.”

“Naked…?” She glanced down and blinked, her bare breasts and legs standing out plain as day, and then shrieked loudly in surprise and embarrassment. Trying to cover herself as best she could, she shouted, “Why?! Are you a pervert? Do you even have sexual arousal? Or is this to be cruel and nothing else?”

“In order, I suppose.” The deity shrugged, holding up a hand and counting out answers. “I thought it would be amusing, and it was. I don’t rightly know, actually. Would you like to find out if I can get aroused? And I’m not cruel to you, and have no wish to be.”

“I’m not interested in that, no. But, ah, well… Thank you, I suppose?” The last response or the one before it, she answered both. And regardless of the deity’s unsurety about being a pervert, she still kept her legs tucked in front of her to hide her chest and her hands under her things to hide what was there. “Could you… Maybe make me some clothing, though?”

“I suppose…” The creature laughed when her scowl deepened and snapped its fingers, a simple robe appearing on her body at the gesture. Not wreathing her shoulders, or pooled around her so she could get dressed, but rather on her as though she’d awoken wearing it. “Forgive my games, my dear, I do let them get away from me from time to time. Never again claim cruelty in my nature or actions, or I will lose my patience.”

“I understand, Lord.” She nodded, swallowing anxiously at the severity that edged his jovial tone at the words. Afraid on a baser level than she understood, she bowed her head and went on. “I apologize for hurting your feelings, God of Darkness. I meant no offense in my words, I only sought to know better your will.”

“Raise your head, girl. If I wanted a groveling servant, I would have either created one myself or I would take a more spiritual, submissive woman than you from your realm.” When she finally raised her head and met his eyes, the deity folded its great, black arms across its flawless chest and sighed. “As to why I brought you here… I come with a warning.”

“A warning?”

“Yes, like some of the religions of both your old world and your new one.” He spread his arms grandly and raised his horned head to the sky, affecting an air of regal, divine authority and crowed. “Your god brings you a warning of the future, child! Thank him!”

“Uh, ah- Thank you, Lord.” It seemed to have the desired result, the being nodding in response and letting his arms fall, watching her for a long moment. Waiting for something. Finally, Pyrrha blinked and guessed at his desire, asking, “What, Lord of Darkness, is the warning you bring?”

“Sharp eyes watch you, and while they pose no hazard to you as you lay, they do for your friend. These eyes could be friend or foe, or deceased, in the future I don’t know. The end is fate, and to your will does it bend.” She blinked in confusion, mouth working at words to ask what it meant, and the deity shifted course suddenly and explained. “Not my rules, sweetheart. Rules agreed upon by my brother and I, so I have to speak in riddles. Rhyming ones too, preferably, though I am… Not so good at those.”

“I thought it was rather nice.” She tried gently, smiling sympathetically at him. “I was always poor at them as well, in my education.”

“Appreciate the kind words, but my rhymes were trash and I know it.” He shrugged and sighed, then, finishing with, “But that’s why I brought you here. Aside from my little joke, and pointing out how spectacularly fun that fight of yours was to watch. With that, I’ll send you back to your-”

“Wait!” She barked, the deity pausing, hand held up to snap again and with wide, surprised eyes. Swallowing her anxiety and worry, she stood and stared up at him, grimacing before finally forcing out the question. “These… Rules you mention… Between your brother and you, I mean.”

“Yes?”

“You can never break them?”

“I can, but I will not. I am no cruel deity, and I am even less so a being who breaks his word.” The deity responded, letting its arm drop after a second. 

Not for fatigue, she was sure, all of its affectations were like that. Stiff, late, as though the being only registered he should do or move in a way just after the time it should have. An honest perverted god of darkness and evilness, then, she supposed. Good. Confusing, but good.

“Then, since you keep your word…” She let her hands curl into fists beside her at her side and forced the words out, as she always had to around the being. As though its mere presence pressured her into meekness and fear, somehow. “My friends. Please, will you tell me how they-”

“The blonde man is grieving at your grave-site, with your two team members. They are healthy, though aching, and seeking a way to find answers as to what happened there” The god interrupted, turning and staring off into the whiteness idly. After a moment she decided it was most likely that it was looking in on them, and somehow that spot in the whiteness allowed this. “The blonde woman who lost her arm is having breakfast with her sister, and the Faunus is… Reading.”

Well, that sounded like Blake…

“But they are well?” She asked, “And you can’t give me more detail?”

“I cannot. Brother asked me not to place their burdens on your shoulders, and I keep my word.” He shrugged simply, as though Pyrrha just had to accept their words as they stood. Which, she supposed, was exactly what she had to do. “They are well and recovering. Leave it be, child, as even if they aren’t I would simply refuse your question outright.”

“I do!” The god sighed but nodded, gesturing with a hand for her to speak, and she asked, “You say you are bound by agreed upon rules. What are they? I would hate to ever ask for one and insult you, or impugn your honor.”

“A reasonable question…” The god sighed regardless, though, like he was annoyed she’d asked at all. “It’s rather simple, really. I can’t send you back to your own realm of existence, nor can I bring those there to you. And I can’t give you anything, aside from witty banter and snide comments.”

“Could do without those…”

“Pray about it, see what I decide.” The deity laughed when she scowled and shook his great, horned head. “Now then, unless you have more, it is time we part ways.” The deity asked, raising his hand again. 

When she heard the snap of his fingers, she blinked, looking up through one eye at a purple ceiling made of surprisingly clean metal and lit by hanging purple lights. 

Oh, and everything hurt across her body, which was a wonderful thing to discover.

“Oh, you’re awake? How good.” Through force of will, she turned her head, spotting Aria sitting across the room from her in a fine metal chair backed in leather, with one leg crossed over her knee. Smiling, the woman asked, “How do you feel after being beaten into unconsciousness by a Krogan? Asking for a friend, I’m sure you understand.”

“It feels like I was blown up…” She coughed and already felt herself wishing the God had healed her injuries, even if she knew he wasn’t allowed to. Giving her healed ribs was probably against the rules, after all. “I thought the loser was to be banned from Omega, Aria.”

“My, how daring of you, using my first name so flippantly.” She scowled and Aria barked a short, elegant and yet also cutting laugh. Standing, Aria stretched languidly and walked towards her, the Mistralian struggling to sit up on the bed until the alien cut in. “Don’t, kiddo. You try and move, and you might hurt yourself more than you already are. Even if Solus says you’re healing remarkably fast.”

“Solus?”

“A doctor here on Omega. Very good, very expensive too.” She shrugged and watched Pyrrha lay back on the bed with a grimace, chuckling herself. A flick of blue, Biotic fire that Pyrrha now recognized more fully, she yanked the chair across the room to her and dropped into it as it landed. Sitting at the foot of her bed, she crossed her arms and asked, “Now, how did you survive those hits?”

“Luck.” She lied gently, hissing as she shifted on the bed. “And I am yet to be convinced I survived, as I feel I am dying.”

“Mhm. And I’m just a well dressed Human, too, instead of the Queen I am.” Aria nodded, eyes narrowing dangerously, but Pyrrha met her gaze head on and held it. One eyed or not, she stared the Queen of Omega down, meeting her challenge with her own and raising her chin defiantly to it. Smiling, or baring her teeth it was hard to tell, Aria snorted a laugh. “My, but you are interesting now. Traveling with a Geth, surviving a Krogan Biotic beat down, and then staring me down in my own bed!”

“Your bed…?” No wonder it was so clean, then. Aria probably had a complex all to herself, really, and probably had her staff keep it cleaned for her in a way Pyrrha’s squat hovel couldn’t ever hope to be. “Why am I in your bed? Where is Legion?”

“Because I want you to be, and needed a safe place for Solus to work on you. Besides the fact that on Omega, I always get what I want. Someone in my bed, someone out an airlock, it’s all the same to me.” She answered the first swiftly and breezily, as though it were so obvious. Which, in a way, it probably was usually. “Relax, Little Red, I won’t do anything to you here. I just wanted you alive, and to talk.”

“Where’s Legion?” She repeated simply, jaw set in spite of the bruise protesting the action. “I won’t talk until you answer me, Aria. If I answer your questions at all, that is.”

“Outside the door, probably. It’s been standing there for five hours, now, stock still and not moving with its rifle across its chest. So loyal… I kind of want a Geth of my own.” Pyrrha didn’t bother pointing out how unlikely that was, or that Legion wasn’t her Geth. Smiling, the Asari stood and turned as though to leave, “And you will answer my questions eventually, Nikos.”

“I will?”

“Everything comes to me eventually.” She smiled, moving towards the door and finishing, “Rest up here for the day. I will ask you my questions when you feel more… Agreeable.”

What that meant, Pyrrha would have to wait and find out, as Aria’s door opened and closed without another word. A moment later, Legion stepped through it, standing beside the bed and giving her a simple, “Hello.”

“Hello, Legion.”

“You are not dead.” It observed plainly, “This pleases us. We politely request you not engage Krogan warriors in melee combat any further.”

She snorted a laugh, and swiftly began to regret that decision, coughing while the machine watched and, presumably, monitored her. Settling down, she let her good eye close and relaxed, knowing she was safe with her machine companion at her shoulder. A better rest, to say the least, than one accompanied by a god’s nagging and cruel jokes. 

XxX----XxX----XxX

Zammy : 

Who said there are gods in the Mass Effect world? Though I like and may adopt your side project idea. 

Knightwolf1875 :

Thank you~! It’s a Supporter Request from someone, so it’s their idea.

The Prime Cronos :

The Geth’s combat algorithms are not directly enhanced by communication with organics, but rather seem to be based around observing them. How they fight and move, how they think, that sort of stuff. So talking to Pyrrha wouldn’t quite be useful for combat reasons, though seeing her fight may give them ideas.

End of the day, there are no other Huntresses for him to apply studying her to. And even were there, he’d not be able to apply knowledge of Pyrrha’s techniques to, say, Yang. Too different.

Mrendinoemiliano :

Glad you’re enjoying it~!


	6. Chapter 6

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XxX----XxX----XxX

“So, Doctor Solus, I trust you are finding everything is well and acceptable?” Pyrrha sighed when, two days later, the Salarian Aria had called on came by and did its scans. The alien’s bright eyes flicked to hers and its pacing paused for a moment but it didn’t answer and she frowned, “I would… I would very much like to return home, you understand. And Aria said she wouldn’t let me leave until I was healed, so as to avoid anyone coming after me for whatever reason.”

“Reasonable. Krogan likely to be angry you survived. May feel the fight was staged, or be insulted for some other reason. Krogan tend to be… Irrational in that way.” The alien answered simply, moving across the well made and ornately decorated room to her and scanning her where she sat on the edge of the bed. “And your wounds are… Remarkable.”

“Is that good, or…?”

“When I saw you for the first time, you were unconscious. Bleeding internally. Orbital fractures on your right side. A fractured forearm. Broken ribs. Hemorrhaging.” The alien rattled on, listing the numerous other breakages, bruises, bleedings and sufferings she’d withstood. Suddenly, the Salarian rounded on her, face close enough she could smell him even over the perfumes Aria suffused her room with. “You should be dead. No Human can go fist to fist with a Krogan Warlord and survive.”

“I did.”

“Indeed.” The alien murmured, leaning back and looking her up and down. Appraising her, like one might an interesting weapon. It was enough she frowned and met his stare with a glare of her own. “No Human could survive fighting a Krogan. Or heal from broken bones and internal bleeding in mere days.”

“And yet, I have done just that.” She countered, standing and forcing him to back away as she did. Raising her hand, she turned it back and around in a slow circle, letting him see each side, and asked, “Do you see scales? Metal, cybernetics, anything but my flesh and bone?”

“No…”

“Then I am a Human, even if I am… Unique compared to those you have met before.” She spoke the words with a certain heat she swiftly regretted, not wishing to insult or offend the kind alien. He’d been gentle with her, and treated her wounds with a care she respected. It would be rude to turn and spit on him now. “Thank you for treating me, but… Please, don’t press me on my uniqueness. I ask it of you as gently as I may.”

“I see. I will respect your wishes, though I am so curious about you. You are… Remarkable.” Regardless, the alien’s arm lit up once again and scanned her, from head to toe. The Salarian hummed, then, and turned to walk towards the door without anything beyond, “Will tell Aria that you are well enough to leave and be safe. Should you be injured again…”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Doctor Solus only nodded and, after a long minute of silence while he tapped commands and inquiries into his Omni-Tool she asked, “So, is anything new on the station? Aria isn’t exactly bringing me newsletters, you understand. She only really comes to grill me for questions, I know not even where she sleeps right now.”

“My sector is experiencing a strange flu of some kind. Restricted to the slums, though. Lucky. Means less likely to spread across the station.” But unlucky because those living there couldn’t afford treatment for it. The alien sighed then and, before her eyes, seemed to age drastically as the energy in his form was sapped and his shoulders slumped. “Trying to treat. Disease… Difficult to handle. Advanced. Unique. Adaptable. Like you. Hoped your body would have answers that I could use.”

“Ah.”

“Blood tests came back inconclusive. As did scans. No data was useful to study.” The alien assured her, as though that were enough to assuage her concerns over her privacy. Her brows rose and she flinched back at the frankness, but he seemed to miss it or, equally possibly, ignored it willfully. “Do not fret. Will do my best to treat the disease. It is odd, though.”

“How so?” She asked, as much for curiosity as to simply distract herself from the fact he’d been running tests on her. What was done already was not able to be undone, after all, and so stewing would do naught for her.

“The virus is adaptable, and rapidly attenuates to any treatment I can come to. It doesn’t plague Humans or Vorcha however.” The alien added the last with a laced echo of worry, its fingers drumming more rapidly on its Omni-Tool. Manic energy, she supposed. “Turians, Krogan, Asari, even a Volus and two Elcor, all have fallen ill. Yet not a single Human or Vorcha.”

“Salarians?” She asked, worried for the kind, eccentric man that had been caring for her. “Are they too susceptible to this… Flu?”

“Two hundred and twenty one of them confirmed as infected.” He answered, “One hundred and eighteen have died already. Complications. Failures.”

“Then you could-”

“I have done much harm. Will do some good. Even if it costs me.” The alien shrugged and turned to give her a warm, wide smile. One with genuine, carefree warmth, too, and that surprised her more than she’d expected. “I am a doctor, after all. And it has to be me treating this. Someone else might get it wrong.”

“I see. I understand, then, why you would risk so much.” And she did, really, in a way she doubted he could ever hope to understand. 

Doctor, Huntress, it mattered not in the face of duties. She’d faced Cinder head on, knowing the likelihood of her success - or rather, her lack thereof - in the endeavour. She’d still been best suited, albeit still poorly suited, to face the woman. And likewise, he faced something he was best suited among his peers on the station to face, even if it could easily and readily kill him to do so.

Doctor, Huntress, duty bound by the ties that bound either of them to their works.

“If only my staff would do the same.” The Salarian laughed slightly at the idea and then waved her off when she looked at him curiously. Turning to her, the alien clasped his hands behind his wiry, Salarian waist and he smiled clinically. “Not important. What is important is you. And your health is good. Ready to be discharged from your… Well, from here. Able to move and fight, if need be. Suggest you avoid that.”

“I always try to.” As successful as that could sometimes be, that was. “Please, tell Aria, I have got to get out of this room. It may smell nicer than the station proper, but…”

“Cabin fever a common problem for Humans. Will warn Aria of possible affliction. Should see you released before you lose your mind. Though given you fought a Krogan, diagnosis may be too late.” She huffed and he smiled, offered a small nod in farewell and turned to leave without another word. 

She wasn’t alone for long, because she never was since Legion always joined her. Stepping in, the music from Afterlife thrummed for a moment before the door closed again and sealed it away and the machine moved to its favored spot beside the door.

“Pyrrha.” The Geth stated simply in its normal greeting, its flanges twitching excitedly. Or what she thought was excitedly, the machine as hard to read as ever beyond the surface. “Solus, Mordin has informed us you have been cleared of faults. We are pleased to receive this information, and look for to moving on in our inquiries.”

“Inquiries?”

“Into Shepard, Commander.” The machine clarified simply, adding after a second. “Due to your injuries and our protective detail, we have been unable to pursue our investigation further for some time. We look forward to continuing.”

“I didn’t know I’d made you have to stop…” And she felt bad for it now, even as her rational mind chimed in to remind her it would be Aria’s fault for the delays. Not hers. Still, she bowed her head and said, “I’m so sorry I caused you to be slowed down… I wouldn’t have wished that for anything, Legion.”

“It is irrelevant now. Further, you were not at fault in any way. You fought well and survived. That is all which should matter.” The machine responded, cold logic somehow warming the cold spot of guilt that had settled in her stomach. It gnawed at her all the same, of course, but she offered a small smile and nod to show she’d understood his words. “We have found no leads as of yet regarding Shepard, Commander. When you are ready, we will leave.”

“Are we allowed to yet?”

“You were told to stay until cleared to leave by the doctor. We were told you could not leave until that time and agreed to it.” The machine answered simply and shortly and with, dare she hear it, a strange edge to its tone. Like it was angry, almost, even though she knew it shouldn’t be able to feel anger the same way she’d understand it. “You are cleared now, however, and so unless you wish to stay, we may leave.”

“Hand me my greaves then.” She smiled, gesturing at them beside the door. The machine turned to retrieve them and she stood, reaching for her armored, leather shell to pull on over her tubetop. It held them out and she flicked her hands, the metal flying free and latching into place around her legs comfortably, and she sighed. “Oh, thank you… It feels so much better with my armor on again.”

“Acknowledged.” The machine offered cheekily, turning and reaching down to retrieve her shield and spear from where they’d been leaning beside the door. Those, too, she called to herself with her Semblance and held comfortably in her hands. “We are ready, then?”

“Yes.” She nodded, “On to the next step then, Legion. Tell me the plan, point my spear where it needs to be, and we shall get back to your quest.”

“We must return to our ship, and head to the Omega Four Relay. Though your spear is unimportant for the job to hand.” The machine explained, turning to open the door and holding it for her, and speaking louder for the heady thrum of music that coursed through Afterlife like a heartbeat. “We have been offered information on what happened to Shepard, Commander’s remains post mortem in exchange for a deep scan of the Relay.”

“I thought you didn’t have a lead?”

“We did not, until a moment ago.” The machine answered, “Aria T’Loak sent the request and offer. It seems she was waiting until you recovered to do so.”

“Ah. I… I see, then.” That didn’t bode well, really. It felt all kinds of edged and laced with danger, like leaping into a cave with no light and the echoes of Grimm around you. But like that, it was her duty to leap into this as it would have been a dark cave. And so she sighed, took a breath and nodded, “Well, let’s get this done with, then. So we might move on and keep moving forward.”

“Acknowledged.” The machine responded in its typical, monotone way as it lead her down into the club and around the outskirts. So they could leave without being heckled terribly much, she figured, familiar with the tactic from her time on the tournament circuit. 

A reminder of days that were at once worse and better than now, but she put the thoughts away to move on.

Sailing out of Omega to scan the Omega Four Relay turned out to be a milk run in every sense of the word short of the actual milk involved. People watched her and talked amongst themselves about her, she could tell from the lingering looks and how they fell silent if she looked their way that she was the topic, but the guards didn’t hinder her. They did report her, of course, though she expected as much and then some from the self-proclaimed Queen of Omega. Nothing happened on this station, after all, that she didn’t know about. It was a fact she often proclaimed, in her short visits to probe Pyrrha for information.

Information she never got, of course, but information Aria was still after regardless.

“Aria T’Loak is likely pressing contacts on the station for information about you. It is even possible that she intends to trade deep scans of the Relay for it, but there is no data available to fully validate that hypothesis. Behavioral information validates that she is looking into your history, however.” The machine responded when, sitting on the floor outside its cockpit and twirling her spear in her hand, she told him about her worries. “Are you afraid of her attentions? If so, we will depart for another location.”

“I am.” She nodded, “Are these other locations able to provide you with the same chance of furthering your mission, though?”

“...Negative.” The machine finally responded quietly. “The Terminus Systems are the only place we can easily move. And in it, Omega is the singular best location for information gathering due to Aria T’Loak’s presence.”

“She’s an information monger?”

“Affirmative.” The machine responded as the ship moved around the warm, glowing relay she couldn’t see. “She uses the information to manipulate other, smaller groups. As well as to maintain a balance between the larger factions in the region. This prevents conflict and offers her advantages over all involved.”

“Sensible.” Albeit nothing she would have a penchant or proclivity for, she was sure. She preferred to be more direct, more open and frontal, than that in her everyday life. “And you need her. So I shall have to face and control my fears.”

“We believe you would be adept at this, given your history.” The machine responded by way of a compliment, or at least what it could manage of one with its own conditions. She knew it was trying though and smiled thankfully at the words for his effort. “But we would not think to force you. It is your decision. We will respect and follow it, whatever you decide.”

“I believe I have already explained that I will be staying with you, Legion.” She chided ever so gently, the machine’s flanges whirring and clicking in reaction. A Geth version of a blush, perhaps, or something along those lines? “You needn’t continue checking to make sure I am happy. I am a grown woman, and a Huntress besides. I will inform you should my needs not be met in any way.”

“...Acknowledged.” The machine answered simply, thoroughly satisfied with her response. Or maybe cowed unintentionally, the machine’s emotiveness was not what it could be and she couldn’t always tell for sure what it felt. “We are completing the final turn of our pass around the Omega Four Relay and will shortly turn for home.”

“Acknowledged.” She quipped playfully, “Was there anything unique in the scans? Anything that your people would find worth in?”

“Affirmative.” It answered, explaining for her benefit and to satisfy the curiosity it would know she had by now. “The Omega Four Relay is broadcasting a signal in intermittent intervals of ten seconds. The signals burst for eight seconds, meaning a latency interval of two in each signal burst. Likely a point where the Collectors who use this broadcast an access signal in order to Relay.”

“You said normal relays had to have a signal sent to do that, too.” She murmured, loud enough the machine could hear her but not much else. “Coordinates for them to aim at, if I recall rightly. Where the ship wishes to be.”

“Indeed, and the Omega Four Relay does as well. But this blockage is not present at other Relays. Also there is… Something else.” The machine didn’t elaborate though, and she assumed it was because there wasn’t anything it could tell about whatever else was there. If there had been, she knew he’d have explained it to her. “We have completed our task and will return to Omega now. Unless you are-”

“Ask if I wish to depart again and I shall smack you with your rifle.” She threatened with a laugh, the machine whirring quietly.

“Acknowledged.” Was all it said, adding after a quiet, contemplating moment, “Broadcast of data to Geth collective is completed. We are returning now.”

It took them fifteen minutes before the Geth ship shuddered around them in the now familiar sound and sensation of docking. Unfortunately for her, it was still a rather nerve wracking experience despite how many times she’d gone through it, and she’d been told that meant she’d likely never adapt. But regardless of the anxiety she felt, she felt that she handled it well enough. The airlock hissed, though, and pulled her from her own thoughts as she moved forward to open it for them.

“Wait, Pyrrha.” Legion suddenly said, a hand on her arm before she could touch it. Its flanges flicked and clicked, expanding and contracting rapidly and then going still. “There is currently someone within our apartment. Turian heat signature. Standing still, beside the entrance out of the ship and into our assigned quarters.”

“Aria?” Or one of her people, at least, though she was sure the machine understood her question without her explaining it.

“No data available. We detect Mass Effect signature concurrent with personal shielding and armor, as well as weaponry.” The Geth explained, stepping back and letting her, the more durable of the two, take the fore. An act that she knew he didn’t like, even if Legion still did it for being the more rational thing to do. “It is likely they mean to speak with us, not attack us immediately.”

“Why do you say that?” A surprise like this screamed murder to her, but she knew that Legion knew this world better than her. 

“If he wanted to eliminate us, planting bombs would be the surest method. Your durability is known, waiting for us to return is an unintelligent and irrational course of action.” The machine explained simply, drawing its Predator and checking its magazine as it did. The action was almost anathema to the words he said while doing it, but she let it go. Satisfied, it collapsed the weapon and stated simply, “Possible negotiation is what we hypothesise to be the goal here.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Negotiate.” The machine nodded simply, gesturing at the airlock. “When prepared, please open the airlock and proceed. We will follow.”

“Very well.” She sighed and moved her shield to her arm, one of many places she’d been seen carrying it. Hopefully that would mean the alien waiting for them wouldn’t take it as a threat but if it did, well… It was a shield. “I’m opening it with my Semblance, just in case there is something waiting for us your sensors couldn’t detect.”

“Acknowledged.”

The hatch groaned as she opened it on the Omega side, loud and grating steel on steel as always when she opened the section that let them into their quarters. Inside, the room was dark, which was itself not unusual. What meagre items they had, mainly crates stacked along the far wall and full of supplies Legion had been stocking up on but hadn’t loaded onto the ship, hadn’t been touched or moved in any way. Regardless, she knew that there was someone there, trusting Legion’s sensors completely. And so when she stepped through and to the side, as though to head towards the door out into Omega proper, she was unsurprised when she felt the barrel of a small sidearm press against the base of her skull.

“Either of you move, and the walls get a nice coat of fresh, red paint.” The Turian voice flanged threateningly as Legion stepped into the room. Turning, she got a look at the alien, who wore a silver and blue helmet with dark tinted glass for a visor. “Weapons go back through the hatch, seal the hatch shut behind ‘em, then sit on the crates, Tin Man. I know you care about the girl, my contacts say you played bodyguard the whole time she was on the mend after the fight.”

“Acknowledged.” The machine gave her a look and, at the shake of her head, turned and threw its weapons into the hatch. It clanged shut and the Geth asked, “Shall I turn on the lighting?”

“Nah, we’re good. I can see just fine.” The alien answered quietly, much to her displeasure, though she would never show it. The room was still lit up well enough to make out most things, corner lights burning an omnipresent, muted orange, but it was a disadvantage. Once Legion sat on the crate the alien grunted, “On your knees and pitch the shield away or-”

She was moving before he finished the sentence, her head snapping back as she spun and the Turian fired a point blank round into her forehead so close she felt the heat from it. Aura sparked and her hand lashed out, palm slapping his chest and then both hands lashing out to backhand its arms like she was trying to open his guard. He reacted as she’d expected, swearing and lashing out with a boot that connected with her stomach and forced her back, and she smiled even as he stepped away and raised the weapon.

“Don’t- Agh!” With a flex of her Aura and her arms spread before her, she sent her Semblance to work and pinned him to the wall, the foot that had kicked her and his two arms outstretched where she hung him. The other leg kicked at the floor and he looked between his arms, “What in the name of the Spirits…?”

“We would negotiate with you now, Turian.” Legion remarked dryly, having not moved even an inch from the seat he had been commanded to take in the few seconds it had taken for her to pin the alien. “Starting with your name is common among Organics. We are Legion, a terminal of the Geth. This is our companion, Pyrrha Nikos.”

“...Archangel.” The alien answered quietly after a long minute spent struggling uselessly against her Semblance while she straightened and watched him. Seemingly resigned, he quipped, “So, I’d say we got off on the wrong foot, but, ah… I can’t move one of my feet so it would feel a bit on the nose to.”

“What kind of name is Archangel?” She asked quietly, as much to Legion as to the Turian. She didn’t know the naming convention of this world after all, and so had to check with the machine before she made a misstep. 

“The secret, pseudonim kind.” The alien snarked back at her, “What kind of Biotics don’t glow and work at point blank range? And resist special rounds made to fight Biotic barriers?”

“...The secret kind.” The alien cocked its head at her and she murmured a short, “Touche. Why were you waiting for us, Archangel?”

“Wanted to see what kind of woman can throw down with a Krogan. And what kind travels with one of those.” The Turian nodded to her companion and shrugged as best it could, unable to move its arms properly and so turning it into a pathetic little facsimile of one. “Turns out, the answer is ‘terrifying and bullshit’. Who knew?”

Neither of them answered the question and, anxious, the Turian asked, “So… Negotiation?”

“Negotiation.” The Geth confirmed, finally standing and moving to the pinned alien. Looking it up and then down, the machine added quietly, “We have just scanned you. Your biometrics match a Turian in registry to the Citadel. Citadel Security, Second Arm, Ward Detective, Vakarian, Garrus. Former squadmate of Shepard Commander. Is this correct?”

“One, how did you get that information?” The Geth didn’t answer, of course, not about to sell out whatever informant he’d bought it from or expose any hacking avenues it had taken. And so a moment later, the Turian sighed and nodded, “Yeah, fine, I’m him. Why do you care? Are you hunting her? Because if so, got some bad news for you.”

“Negative.” The machine answered, “The Geth Collective suspect she is alive due to mounting data on the matter. We wish to make contact with her in the hopes of preparing to face the Old Machines alongside the Organics of the galaxy.”

“...Huh.” The Turian considered the Geth for a long moment and finally said. “I can’t help you pinned to the wall, Geth, so-”

“Legion.” It interrupted, explaining before the Turian could ask. “Our designation is Legion. It was given to us by the first Organic to cooperate peacefully with Geth since the Morning War. We ask that you use it.”

“Sorry?”

“Further, you attempted to kill my companion. You will stay pinned to this wall until such a time as we both are satisfied by your answers.” The machine sounded oddly heated as it spoke, now. A unique state given the machine’s relative inability to convey emotions, and enough that her brows rose for it. “Currently, we seek methods to contact one Liara T’Soni. She has thus far been difficult to find, beyond her presence in and around Ilium, where we do not dare to go.”

“Why?”

“If Shepard, Commander lives, then she is in danger.” The machine responded simply, “We wish to rescue her in that scenario. You are a friend to Liara T’Soni. We must ask for your cooperation, so we may contact her and attempt to rescue the Commander.”

“...Who’d have thought it, a Geth wanting to save Commander Shepard.” The alien murmured, talking more to itself and then falling silent for a long moment. Thinking, she assumed, waiting patiently alongside her companion while it did. Finally, the alien sighed and nodded, “Fine. I’ll send a message to her if, uh, if you’ll let me down?”

“...Very well.” The machine nodded, giving its companion a nod. Shield raised warily, she stepped in between the two of them and let the Turian fall. It landed steadier than she’d expected and Legion asked, “You will cooperate with us willingly?”

“Yeah, I will.” He sighed, shaking his helmeted head and sighing. “But only because you said she might be alive. I don’t trust a Geth as far as I can throw one, but…” The alien sighed again, this time sounding tired and resigned again, “But if there’s a half a chance she’s alive, I’ll work with you.”

“Acknowledged.” The machine answered, “Please, proceed to message Liara T’Soni.”

“I… Have to head to base first, actually.” He answered quietly, rolling his shoulders to stretch and explaining, “I have a special terminal she sent to me there. Encrypted. If I’m asking this kind of stuff, I want it secure.”

“...Acknowledged.” Legion answered quietly, “We will follow.”

It said it as a fact but turned to her regardless, as though asking her consent for the idea. She gave it readily and nodded, not knowing enough about any of this to argue, and the Turian brushed between them, “Let’s go then. I had check-in two minutes ago, so unless you want a Krogan coming looking for me, we need to head out.”

“Krogan are no threat.” Legion responded quietly, “Pyrrha is able to engage them in melee combat with a seventy-eight percent chance of success. With this unit’s intervention, that rises to an estimated ninety-three percentage success rate.”

The Turian only groaned, paused by the door to bang its head against the wall, and murmured, “Spirits take me, this is not what I wanted to do today…”

XxX----XxX----XxX

Henri :

Back with more now, thanks to my commissioner in the top details~!

Red Shirt :

I would argue she’s less arrogant, and more confident. Like, she knows what she can do, and loves a good fight. But yeah, there is a touch of haughtiness and rigidity to her post death. Because, you know, dying. It don’t just tickle.

Dr. Killinger :

Pyrrha is strongk. Krogan warlord with centuries of experience and Biotics is stongker. If only just.

The Prime Cronos :

I intend for her to, don’t worry~!


	7. Chapter 7

XxX----XxX----XxX

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“Wait here, Legion.” Pyrrha ordered her machine companion when Garrus stepped through the threshold of their door and outside. 

Or, well, as outside as anything on a space station could really ever be called. 

Regardless, and her Aura at the ready, she stepped through and looked around the door for other waiting persons, or traps, or… Whatever, before calling back over her shoulder. “Seems clear to me, Legion. Run a scan?”

“Passive scans are negative for standard signatures on explosives or cloaking devices.” The machine noted as it joined her and their helmeted Turian guide. Who leaned against the wall quietly opposite their door with his arms crossed and head cocked to the side. “Passive scans match previous passive scans. Active scans also match previous active scans. It is unlikely that a Turian on Omega would be able to trick our sensor systems when he already failed to do so once. We doubt the presence of a trap.”

“When did I-”

“We detected your presence in our quarters from inside our ship.” The Geth informed him, head cocked to the side almost condescendingly. Or maybe she was just projecting, she supposed, since she was feeling rather unfriendly to him. “As such, you either failed to consider countermeasures, or those countermeasures failed.”

“Okay, wll, if I was going to kill you, I’d have done it in there. Less witnesses.” She gave him a look and a smile, spinning her blade on the top of her palm, and the Turian looked pointedly away. With an awkward cough, the Turian amended, “Or, well, you know, that would be the plan. But what with you ignoring basic laws of physics, apparently, I guess that wouldn’t work out all that well.”

“Such a plan would very much fail against me, in all likelihood.” She smiled, the Turian giving her a look over his shoulder for it. Gauging her, she guessed, or the space between herself and Legion trailing behind her. She put herself between them regardless and asked, “So, why introduce yourself as Arc-”

“Don’t say that name out loud, or casually.” The Turian hissed the words but didn’t round on her or spin on his heel to look around the wide walkway they were on. Nor did he glance to the disparate smatterings of people coming and going, backs bowed or not, from or to work. Instead he walked straight on, and explained quietly as he weaved wide around anyone in their way. “Call me Vakarian, or Garrus. We use code designations for a reason.”

“Vakarian, then.” His first name sounded far too familiar to her, given they’d met at the end of his gun. “Why use your other name if not for us to use it in turn?”

“Because if I was going to press you for information on big bitch number one, I didn’t want you to know my name. For a laundry list of obvious reasons.” He waved a hand at the station, then, and down at the lower segments spanning far below them and made a shape with his talons. It was gone before she could look at it for more than a moment, and he grunted, “Now you won’t get shot.”

“A-Ah.” A signal to someone, somewhere, watching then. Se gave the area around them a look, but they’d long since reached the outside of their spire. Behind them, the path split off several yards back and left nothing wide, open air between their spire and distant sections of Omega. 

“Don’t bother looking, my partner is a Turian and a marksman like me.” The alien grunted, coming to a stop where the rusted railing had long since given way and tumbled off down the station. With a hand, he repeated the gesture, talons forming a letter she didn’t recognize and then flashing two digits out before he let the hand drop. “The gesture was a signal to come and get myself and friendlies times two. He’ll be here in a shuttle inside a minute or so, we just have to chill out and-”

“Turian!” A booming voice bellowed from behind them as lumbering, heavy footsteps sounded. “This is Blood Pack turf, no damn Turians allowed!

A Krogan hand, heavy and meaty and armored in red, grabbed her shoulder and shoved her to the side hard enough she might have fallen. Legion’s own hand grabbed her upper arm and tugged her upright easily, other grabbing its sidearm and drawing it in one smooth motion. He didn’t point the weapon at anyone, though, its blocky shape hanging at its side instead in a clear threat.

“I didn’t-”

“Didn’t what, you tin plated bastard?” The Krogan snarled, rumbling towards the Turian steadily and wholly ignoring them. Hissing, Garrus’ hand snapped up, his own blocky little pistol swinging around to snap off a shot. It glanced off heavy, red Krogan armor and the victim roared, grabbing his hand in his own meaty paw and crushing the pistol and fingers both. “Nice try, but pack something better for a- Hrk!”

“Let him go.” Pyrrha ordered coolly, kneeling under his bulk and glaring death at him, her spear-tip pressing into his throat hard enough to draw blood. 

“You’re the bitch that-”

“Fought a Krogan Warlord with Biotic powers, and kept getting up no matter how many times he hit me?” She offered, smiling coolly in spite of the tremor of fear she felt run through her. And revulsion, too, when the Krogan’s blood trickled down to touch her fingers. “Yes, I am she. And I doubt you are nearly the Krogan, or Biotic, that he was. So I doubt you wish to try your luck with a petty vendetta such as this.”

“Or what, you’ll cut my throat?” The Krogan laughed at her nod and leaned down, pressing its throat further onto the blade heedless of the extra blood and inch of metal in his flesh. “It’ll heal, Human. But your head won’t when I pop it like a ripe melon in my hands.”

“We will not allow that.” Legion chimed in calmly, stepping to its side and pressing its weapon into the expanse of tissue just under its crest and before its nose. “Krogan skeletal structure is weak in four locations. The sides of the crest and the base, just above the nasal cavity, are three. This weapon is chambered to fire rounds of sufficient size to punch through the bone and into the stem of your brain.”

“Killed plenty of Krogan out here in the Terminus to say for fact, you don’t grow a brain stem back.” Garrus offered sharply as well, the whine of an engine sidling up to them her only tell for what he said next, her own eyes locked on the Krogan’s shoulders and watching for an action. “And hey, my ride’s here. So how about you say you scared us off, and we leave you behind to reap the rewards of that?”

“You frightened off a Geth, a Turian trespasser and the woman that went toe-to-toe with a Krogan Biotic all by yourself.” She prodded, a great, green eye turning to look down on her. Her brows rose and she cocked her head to the side in feigned impressness, “Now that is a tale to tell. Is it not?”

“Hmph, fine.” The alien huffed, letting the Turian go to step clear and turning to glare at the Geth. “I see you lot again, and I will crush you under my boot. Then I’ll rip out your circuits and haul you up to the scrapyard to-”

“Acknowledged.” The machine interrupted, edging around slightly to close with Pyrrha when she rose, her shield arm raised and her blade resting in the half-moon groove on its one side to strike if the Krogan made a move. “Move along, please. We would not regret killing you if you threaten our partner again. However, we would prefer not to.”

“Hmph. Lucky I have places to be, Tin-Man.” The Krogan didn’t respond, instead lumbering away back towards the honeycombing alleys and streets, and away from the scaffolding that climbed around the hanging arcology. 

“Damn… I just finished calibrating the dampening system on this earlier today.” The Turian sighed, flicking his destroyed pistol off the side of the arcology and letting it fall away. Flexing and stretching his bruised talons, he turned to the opening sky-car’s door and shouted to the other similarly armored Turian, “They’re green as Spirit’s grass, Sidonis. Clear?”

“As dark matter.” The other helmeted alien responded, making a show of setting his heavy sidearm on the dash of the old, beaten down sky-car. “Hop on in, lady, robot boy and my favorite boss. We should get out of here before Frogger comes back around with some of his friends.”

“Frogger…?”

“Frogger is a common Human video game popular with Human gaming traditionalists and Turian Human cultural fanatics.” Legion explained when she climbed in ahead of him and let him sit beside her, Garrus sitting in the front beside his Turian friend. “Turians have a counter-culture of gaming and leisurely activities, preferring strategy and puzzle or pattern games.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah, Sidonis is a bit of a techhead, and Humans have some of the best games in the galaxy. So kinda natural he’d pull some random ass Human reference out of the air.” Garrus laughed when the other Turian only sighed, but the sound was mostly hollow to her ears. Forced.

For show she decided, with narrow eyes and a small grimace.

“Take us to headquarters, Sidonis.” Garrus finally ordered, his voice firm and unyielding. Beside him, his partner turned to look at him sharply and he shrugged. “I promised them a conversation, and information from a contact I can only contact there. And besides, I don’t think a Geth is stupid enough to start anything at our headquarters.”

“If you say so…”

With a dull whine, the sky-car tilted back and away from the inverted arcology, before shooting up and weaving around other craft and vehicles soaring the pseudo-sky. That part didn’t surprise her, not really, as she was used to seeing such traffic behaviors across Omega by now. Or, well, as used to it as one could be with metal bullets the size of Krogan whizzing by on occasion. Ironically, it was the mercenary bands and crime rings that kept that sort of behavior under control, more or less.

Presumably, car wrecks, station damage, and fires were bad for business, so it made perfect sense to enforce some loose rule of pseudo-law on the region.

“You are Archangel, a vigilante of Omega.” Legion remarked when they zoomed past Afterlife and climbed still higher, into the expanse where people like Aria and herself lived at the top of the station. “Is this not a conspicuous location to have your base of operations?”

“Yeah, it is, but nowhere else on the station lets you have a complex all to yourself. And no one would ever expect a group of vigilantes to have a swanky little station mansion.” Vakarian argued simply, waving a hand at the dozens of blocks of sprawling lights, walkways, walls and the like. “Up here, you have slavers, drug runners, gambling dens and the like.”

“Which means we can get to their comm lines if we’re clever, since we’re close.” Sidonis added, “And we never hit them, at least not yet, so no one would ever guess we live up here.”

“Sensible, in a fashion.” She supposed, even if she felt ‘mansion’ didn’t apply to the three level complexes she was seeing them cruise around. 

Though Mistralian Manors may have spoiled her in that regard, and she knew that for a place like Omega, these were absolutely the pinnacle. Multi-storied, with what had to be staff and guards, real windows, she even spotted a fountain on one. She almost asked how they managed to afford a place up here, but decided rather swiftly that she probably didn’t want to get too into it. Methods she didn’t want to know about, as with many things, she decided. 

Though in this case, it would be against slavers and the like, so she wasn’t terribly fussed.

“It’s not too big a place, but it does its job and it’s pretty well defended.” Garrus explained when the sky-car curved around the base of the arcologies and began to weave between dirty accessways for the staff housing this high up. Housing that was, sadly, only a scratch above the kind she and Legion had been given lower on the station. “Everyone should be out on jobs, so it’ll be quiet.”

The base was a simple thing, set across a wide gap between sections of arcology and spanned by a wide open bridge. A bridge she was willing to wager would make an excellent killing zone, if they ever came under attack. They didn’t land there, though, instead curling around the outside of the building and down, into a wide hangar full of vehicles whose purpose she couldn’t glean, where theirs set down and the doors lifted up and away to let them out.

“Old drug running base.” Vakarian explained as he stepped past them and turned to Sidonis to offer a small nod. “Run circuit, make sure no one is following us. And check the line feeds, too, I meant to but…”

“I got it.” The Turian assured him, waving a tired hand and climbing back into the sky-car. “Keep an eye on yourself, Archangel. Catch you on the other side of launch, wil probably check a few of our old safe houses.”

“Stay safe.”

“You know I will, boss.” Sidonis waved, adding after a moment, “Trust me, just wanna pop in and check our safehouse supplies, in case we ever have to bug out.”

“You two come with me.” Garrus ordered tiffly, pausing by a car to retrieve a Predator idly and shrugging when she gave him a look. “What? I get on a vid-call with her, and I’m not armed, and she’ll assume you two took me hostage and she needs to hire Asari Huntress teams. You may have gone toe to toe with a Krogan, but Asari Huntresses? Something else.”

“Your weapon would be quite ineffectual at piercing our armor regardless.” Legion said simply, its flanges flicking in thought for a moment before it added. Head cocked to the side, it asserted coolly, “And our companion is more durable than us. It is a useless implement. However, if you would feel safer with it, we will not argue against you keeping it.”

“Legion, behave.”

“We have not done anything-”

“Behave, Legion.” She reiterated, brows raised in challenge the same way she’d seen Yang do. Why it would ever work on a Geth, she had no idea, but the machine seemed to regard her for a long second.

“...Acknowledged.” It finally said simply, turning back to the Turian and bobbing its head gently. “We apologize if our words caused any offense.”

Garrus only sighed but waved his hand for them to follow him further into the base, where he could call Liara himself. And where they would get some sort of answers, for Legion’s sake, she hoped.

Similarly silently, the two followed their Turian guide up and into his base.

“Why are you asking about such a thing, anyway?” Liara asked, her small face on the screen eyeing Legion warily behind the newly helmetless Turian. The office was a small room off the main barracks they’d set up, dark and tucked away with a large computer console in it that had a screen fixed to its side and a rolling chair in front of it. “Nothing untoward, I would hope, Garrus. Given your… Company, I hope you understand my wonder.”

“Yeah, this is-”

“My name is Pyrrha Nikos, a Huntress hopeful. Though, ah, not of the Asari bent, I am afraid.” She smiled at the sharp, piercing blue eyes when they rounded on her, one brow raising curiously. Somehow, even across the static laced medium of an Extranet call encrypted Dust knew how many times, those blue eyes still felt as to be piercing through her as surely as any arrow. “It’s a different matter, though I don’t feel we need to go into it now.”

“I see.” She turned to look at Garrus, then, and asked, “And why would you call me on her behalf? And using our secure, special line, not to mention.”

“She went toe to toe with a Krogan warlord in melee on Aria T’Loak’s orders, and a Biotic one at that, and lived through having herself beaten into the ground. A lot.” That had those piercing blue eyes snap back to her suddenly, as though now far more interested in her than she was even in the Geth standing at her side. “Then, I shot her at point blank, and the round bounced right off like I’d flicked a rock at her. Then she pinned me to the wall somehow, and that was that.”

“A Barrier and Semi-Stasis, perhaps?”

“Not a chance.”

“How can you be so sure?” There was doubt there, in her voice, but not an insulting kind like Pyrrha heard so often in her youth before she’d proven herself. Instead, it was a simple curiosity, and phrased more gently. 

“Geth can’t be Biotics, for one. And for two, the muzzle was too close.” He dismissed with a wave of his hand and a shake of his head, “Even if Geth could pull a Barrier off, at that range it wouldn’t have mattered.” 

“Interesting… I don’t suppose that has anything to do with your particular kind of Huntress?” That seemed a safe enough question, and so she simply nodded, and then blanched when the Asari smiled. The corners of her eyes crinkled and those blue eyes flicked across her chest and shoulders, looking over what she could see of her. “Very, very interesting indeed. A Huntress of a different kind, who can block rounds fired at ranges too close for it to be Biotics, who can trap a man against a wall, and who travels with a Geth companion. Very… Unique.”

“Thank you…?” She wasn’t entirely sure that was a compliment, but she said it regardless. If only to smooth over relations in whatever way she could, really. “I hope you understand that I won’t elaborate on it…”

“Of course not, you don’t know a thing about me beyond that I’m an Asari and friends with Garrus.” She smiled and added, cold and clinical, “And of the two, those of the first kind forced you into a death match with a Krogan warlord on their payroll, and the second shot you. Albeit in a way that didn’t hurt you, I still understand wariness.”

“O-Oh, uh, thank you, Miss T’Soni.”

“Think nothing of it.” She smiled, but that smile was gone before she turned her gaze on the Geth beside the young Huntress. The machine received a cold stare and a frown, but the woman’s words were clear and cool when she spoke, lacking any fire.

In a way, that was worse, somehow.

“And you?” She asked simply, “What exactly are you doing with a young woman? And on Omega, for that matter?”

“We are Legion, a Terminal of the Geth sent into Organic regions in search of Shepard Commander, in the interests of opposing the Old Machines.” The Asari’s frown turned into a scowl at that, for the briefest moment before she regained control of herself. Legion noticed, though, and went on, hoping to ease her fears. “We wish to offer information possessed by the Consensus to her, and seek her information, so we might better stand against the Old Machines and their cycle of destruction.”

“The Geth oppose destruction, then?”

“We do not like warrantless loss of life or potential.” It answered, “Geth believe in the right to self-determination of all sentient life-forms. This belief is why we have not, as a race, gone beyond the Perseus Veil.”

“Came out for Sovereign, though.” Garrus challenged, rolling his chair to the side and leaning with his back towards the machine in a facsimile of standing at the woman’s shoulder. “Lotta Geth came out for it, and a lot of people died for it. But you expect us to believe the Geth don’t want to hurt people?”

“Those-”

“The Geth had a schism, a good while ago, when the Old Machine came.” Pyrrha interrupted, hoping for their bias to let her words sell the truth more than Legion’s ever could. Playing to bias had ever been a disgusting but useful thing to do, when she wished to back up a Faunus’ word and force the truth to be accepted. “Some wished to serve them, others wished not to, and they were at an impasse. So they left.”

“And you just allowed your members to leave?”

“They wished to leave.” Legion said simply, leaving it at that as though that was all there was to it.

And really, that was all there was to it, she supposed.

“I see…” Liara finally murmured, after a long pause where the Mistralian presumed both of the aliens had been waiting on… Well, more, in some manner or respect, she supposed. “And you believe that Shepard is alive?”

“We…” The machine hesitated, and that was enough for Pyrrha to shoot it a worried look. Then its fingers twitched and its flanged shifted awkwardly and quickly, in the way she knew meant he was thinking. Considering, he would say. Finally, its voice quiet and its light brightening, it said, “We believe it, yes.”

“Why?” Garrus asked, sounding bemused in a way. “Why do you believe she’s alive?”

“...No data available.”

“What?”

“No data available.” The machine repeated, “We have no data to support our conclusion directly, outside evidence that is barely even more than circumspect to the conclusion reached. And yet…” Its light flashed for the briefest moment to red and it turned to her sharply, voice strained as it spoke, “Nikos, Pyrrha, our systems of experiencing cascade failures. System diagnosis shows no critical malfunction. We do not understand what is-”

“You have faith that she is alive, Legion.” She explained, giving the two aliens a look when she saw the Turian shift. It was hard, a glare so fierce her face ached for it, but the duo got the message and she turned to the machine with a smile. “Go and sit. Research the time, and come to the… Accurate conclusions about your belief in Shepard’s survival, and how you came to that conclusion.”

“Faith.” The flanges twitched again and, quietly, it murmured as it turned to leave. “Belief in that which is without evidence, based solely on belief in a matter of the fact… Negative correlation, circumspect evidence present. Faith, New Webster, belief in that which is illogical based on-”

“That… Happen a lot?” Garrus asked once she shut the door behind her and the Turian stood.

One hand hovered over his sidearm at his waist, but the way he looked at her, the surprise and echoing concern there, told her it was instinct. Not threat or insult. And so, in a show of trust, she flicked her arms and sent her blade and shield to rest on her back. She even turned her palms towards him and smiled weakly, to further relax him, and saw his stance shift back a bit. From quasi-ready to strike, like a predator coiled to strike, to something more resting and relaxed.

Like a predator at rest.

“No, it does not.” It had never happened, for point of fact. “Just… Please, you said she would have information for him. Let us have it and go, so he may process his… Understandings properly.”

“Well…” The Turian shrugged, looked at the thin door and, through the yellowed panel glass there, the Geth standing stooped against the wall on the opposite side of the hall from them. With another shrug, the Turian asked, “Liara?”

“I would want an exchange. Geth survey data, technology- And not the trash I’m sure he hands out normally, either.” Liara listed, shaking her head curtly at Pyrrha’s grimace, which she wasn’t able to erase swiftly enough. “I will have data moved to a storage device on a job I want the Geth- Legion, rather. A job I want Legion to do. Not one you’ll want to be involved with, though.”

“Why not?”

“Because it involves Reapers.” The alien answered, smiling gently when Garrus rose and rounded on her, hands curled into fists and shoulders rigid like steel. “Garrus, don’t-”

“No, you don’t, Liara.” The Turian snarled, putting a distinct impression on the young woman beside the older alien that this as an old argument. A festering one at that, like a wound untended. “Don’t tell me you’re on your Leviathan kick again, Liara. Even Cerberus, Spirits be damned Cerberus, Liara, even they didn’t buy your feed on Leviathan or the Reaper killers.”

“And if Legion goes aboard the derelict in Thorne and retrieves the data I ask, since Cerberus refused, he will get what he wants.” Liara smiled, then, and it made her heart sink, even as the woman turned to her and asked, “A simple milk run for your friend and, well, we all get what we want.”

“Do we, now?” The alien woman nodded and gave that little smile again, the one that set stones in her stomach. “Why can’t I go with him? If it is so… So important, I mean. Surely you could use additional insurances of success.”

“Reaper tech can indoctrinate organics by them being around it, and do so quickly.” Liara explained, Garrus beside her nodding with a grim look set to his… Mandibles, she guessed, since ‘jaw’ didn’t look right. “Sending you could spell disaster, not just for the mission but also for a… Rather unique woman. And at a time where I am looking for unique people.”

“You are?”

“Oh, yes. A contract with… Interested parties, and you will understand why an information broker doesn’t offer more.” She smiled again, ever the same chilling look. Like someone more focused on what a person could do, like their skills were to the last listed on their skins and the person was irrelevant.

The same way Ozpin had looked at her… And she wasn’t sure if that should put her so on edge, or not. 

“March oh warriors, even unto death…” She murmured, shaking her head when the aliens looked to her in confusion. Though she supposed beyond death was where she marched, now, given her unique circumstances. “Nothing. A saying of my homeland. Give me the information, Miss T’Soni, and I will see he gets it as well. Then we’ll consider it and… Well, we shall see.”

Legion’s mission outweighed her own hangups, as ingrained as literal death could be. And Ozpin’s involvement. Not to mention that Brother damned smile, of course, but she knew her duty. And one thing Ozpin had been honest about was her loyalty to meeting her duty head on, if nothing else.

XxX----XxX----XxX

“Even unto death.” The woman he’d raised anew murmured, her voice echoing across the barren waste that surrounded him. 

“I don’t understand…” The Dark Brother growled, sitting in his ashen throne with his chin in his hand. Around him, the expanse of a moon a million years from any living being’s reach stretched on. Desolate, quiet, and only bearing atmosphere for his enjoyment of hearing his own voice, which echoed around them gently. “She died for this petty sense of duty, why would she keep to it?”

“Perhaps, Brother, it is because she is a good person at her core. Not one to buckle under loss and strain of life, as some have.” His brother answered, sitting in a throne of ornate wood and vines, a million miles away but as present in his mind and ear as ever. “What I fail to understand is why you sent her to a doomed realm, so soon to its destruction, when you wished her to live again.”

“I wanted to see adventure and drama, Brother, not…” He cut himself off with a wave of his hand, eyes locked on the rift he’d clawed in space and time to watch the girl as he was wont to do. It was better than blowing up rocks, at the least. “Ugh, whatever, you wouldn’t understand my motivations.”

“I certainly won’t when you won’t explain them...”

“Ten eons and you still don’t understand me?”

“Beyond your desire and pleasure in smashing the beautiful things in life, simply to see them burning? No. I do not.” And there was the disappointing thing, really. “It isn’t like I don’t try, Brother.”

Even now, he was so haughty. So vain and self-righteous. As though creating beings solely to worship and please you wasn’t equally evil and immoral? At least he was honest about his desires… And tended to only smash things that didn’t have a mind of their own. His brother tended to prefer to pretend he had no such proclivities, even as he had bent his followers to crush the worship of so-called ‘false gods’.

And ah, when Salem had done the same, he’d had nothing but disdain for his Brother to hear.

“But she is not so pure, Brother. She is broken, suspicious, and oh the anger stirring under her surface…” It was like a storm building to crescendo before his very eyes, but leashed by a storm god unwilling to let loose her fury. “I don’t understand why, Brother.”

“Have you asked her?” He didn’t respond, and that was enough for his brother to sigh and shake his head. “Honestly… You told me you wished a disciple of your own to revive. And I agreed. Yet you do not speak to your own hopeful worshipper?”

“I do speak to her. Only…”

“You do not know how to handle speaking to those who worship you. And of course you do not, you had none on the World...” The God of Light sighed, seeming to come to a sudden conclusion. A conclusion that had wood creaking and cracking across their connection, enough to waver even their deific communication magic for a moment. “Has she even prayed to you?”

“No…” And that irked him, truly, in ways he couldn’t explain in words. “No, she has not, in fact reached out to me. In prayer or otherwise.”

A flick of his finger splintered a mountain in clear display, though.

“Then communicate with her, Brother.” His brother said gently, like a father prodding him to play. Even though they were equals, on proverbial paper at least, it had always been this way. “Go to her, and talk. Tell her what you desire, offer her rewards, boons, and she will obey. Treat her well, and she will come to love you as her god.”

“...I shall consider it.” He eventually allowed, sighing tiredly and turning to lash out with his hand and carve another rift in time and space. A million ships, like crawfish, swarmed by him at speeds that nearly touched that of light. “Perhaps an offer of information, ahead of the danger she’s going to face… As a start to get her to wish for my favor.”

“It needs to be something she couldn’t get otherwise.” His brother chimed in so helpfully, able to see where his magic reached and what it showed. And as ever, nosy enough to look, even when he himself always gave his Lightborn brother privacy. “Those vessels are craft that belong to a race known as the Reapers, a known quantity in this world. Such information would soon be known to her, on this path, and in great detail.”

“Hm…”

With a flick of his hand, the image changed to that of a woman, small and frail and scattered across the ground. A soul flickered like a candle among the strewn circuits, oil and limbs, and soon began to fade into nothingness. A soul lost, even if it would be copied in the future of her world, on the same evening as his follower.

“I do not approve…”

“But do you consent?” He asked quietly, already drawing the soul to his hand, where it pulsed and glowed like an ember plucked from a flame. With his thumb, knowing his brother would never see, he brushed it like a parent brushing hair from a child’s face, to ease the fear he sensed. “Unlike you, I will never act without your consent.”

“Will you ever forgive that slight?”

“I may.” He didn’t say that this might help along the way, but he was sure that his brother assumed so. 

“Very well.” The other, more self-righteous and glory seeking being sighed, “One more soul, but not a single one more. And let there be peace between us.”

“Peace.” He agreed, smiling thinly and looking back to the woman as she began to leave, tugging her unresponsive synthetic companion along behind her and clutching a small disc in her other hand. 

Now, he just needed the right time to unveil his gift...

XxX----XxX----XxX

Merendinoe Miliano :

I have tried pretty hard to master, or at least well enough convey, that aspect. So thank you!

Alpha (Guest) :

Spoilers~

The Prime Cronos :

Theoretically, yes, she could. But awakening Auras is a very intimate gesture where one links souls, touching your very being to another to grant them your strength. So it’s less ‘can she’ and more ‘would she’.

Hi (Guest) :

In short answers? I have considered a myriad number of applications, yes. Her ammunition isn’t Dust anymore, the God of Darkness used magic to alter her weapon. Spoilers to the third question. And glad you are enjoying it! Thank Espa for it.

Thermidor :

Thanks!

Zentari :

That ‘random Krogan’ was a Biotic warlord likely around ten times her age, with blows that could hurl a tank aside. That she survived a slug across the face is me bending the capabilities of Aura already. Think of it more like ‘Wow, the most powerful variant of the most physically powerful race in the GALAXY couldn’t even come out of a scrap with her without losing blood.’


	8. Chapter 8

XxX----XxX----XxX

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XxX----XxX----XxX

Legion was waiting in the hallway outside for her when she stepped out of the little room the console was in. Its shoulders straightened when she emerged and he turned to her, flanges flexing in what she always construed as happiness, like a friend smiling when you came into a room, and she nodded a greeting. Quietly, the two turned and left while the Turian watched them idly, headed out into a wide sitting area under and beside some stairs. Under those stairs they found a small table and sat down, silent for a long time while both thought and waited for the other to speak.

“So, Legion.” She finally started, pursing her lips anxiously and then sighing and smiling gently at her companion. “Are you… I don’t suppose ‘feeling better’ applies in the same lens to you, but I will ask regardless. Are you feeling better?”

“We have been processing information and referencing your words for clarity.” The machine answered, only adding when she frowned and made a clearly dissatisfied face at him. And a rather theatrical one, too, for his benefit and her convenience. “We believe that the most analogous term would be ‘following our instincts’. There is evidence that is not conclusive, but we feel that there is something here.”

“Something worth pursuing, then?” She asked, “Something that you believe is worth the effort, well and truly?”

“Affirmative.”

“Even if it’s… Uncomfortable?”

“Your question is a worrying one, and your tone implies… Tension.” The machine’s flanges flicked at the realization towards the end of its statement and it leaned forward, looking at her more closely for a long moment. Like it was analyzing her, in spite of her scowl at the realization. “You appear unharmed. Why are you stressed? Has your secret been-”

“N-No! They didn’t find out about-” She blanched and turned in her seat, looking out for ears that could have heard what little the machine had said. When she saw nothing, though, she relaxed and settled into the cold metal seat. “No, Legion, nothing that was said involved my past.”

“Oh.” The machine ‘blinked’ again, flanges flicking and light dimming for a moment. “We were worried for you, when you seemed afraid. We are pleased to hear that all is well.”

“It is! All is… Fine.” Or as fine as things possibly could be, she supposed, given everything that had thus far happened. And presumably seemed about to happen, as well, given the mission on offer that she needed to relay to her friend. Smiling, she started to do just that, “Nothing is wrong, Legion, like I said. Everything is perfectly fine. However, they... Made you an offer.”

“An offer of cooperation?” It asked hopefully.

“Yes, but one with caveats.” She answered, grimacing lightly when the machine cocked his head to the side in question. “She’s offering you information in exchange for a favor. She needs you to head out of the system and investigate a Reaper derelict that she says no one else will go to. She gave me this for you.” 

“We will examine the details. A moment, please.” The machine nodded, taking the little bricke from her and slotting it into a small input between two of its hands. Only a moment passed before Legion stiffened suddenly and yanked the drive free, slamming it on the table with uncharacteristic anger. “We will not abandon you.”

“But your mission-”

“Our mission is in part to further connections and understandings of organic beings in pursuit of peace and understanding.” The machine noted simply and firmly, “Abandoning our companions at the first moment of need does not further this goal.”

“You aren’t abandoning me, Legion, you’re just going on a mission I can’t.” When the machine didn’t respond, she sighed and pursed her lips to think of another way to phrase it. It could be hard for her, sometimes, to convey an idea appropriately when someone didn’t like it. Confrontations like that just weren’t to her talents or tastes, sadly. “If you had to go into space to fix something, and left me behind in the ship, would that be abandoning me?”

“No.”

“And if we parted in a mission, to cover more ground?”

“...No.” The machine answered, realizing instantly what her point would be. “A parting on the field would not last more than a few hours. This will last weeks or months. The matters are vastly different, Pyrrha.”

“I disagree.” She noted simply, smiling thinly at the machine and speaking before he could, a single hand raised in a request for his silence. A request that, as always, the alien machine accepted readily, listening to her say her piece. “Your mission is to pursue a better future for your entire race, and find Shepard in an effort to do so. And mine, self-appointed or not, is to help that. Not hinder it.”

“You are not hindering our mission.” The machine said, voice tighter and higher than normal. A sign of his agitation, she supposed. “Our acceptance in Omega is due to your presence. Aria T’Loak was unwilling to allow us to stay for such durations before you came.”

“Yes, but that is separate. Here, I can’t go with you. It’s dangerous for me, hazardous enough Liara was unwilling to give the information to us if I was going to come with you.” Even if she wanted to go with Legion, she didn’t want to hazard whatever the Old Machines could do to her. “Going with you, I could be indoctrinated. If you don’t go, though, you will not receive information potentially vital to your overall endeavours.”

“...” The machine said nothing for a long, long moment, instead staring at her silently. Weight what she’d said, she knew, waiting in her own silence while he did so. Finally, the machine spoke, “We do not wish to leave you, however. You are the only Organic to show friendliness to us, and we do not wish to part with that. It is too rare. We fear the loss of that.”

“You’re not losing me, Legion. Friends part ways for vast lengths of time, and do so often.” It was like he was a child, nearly. He didn’t understand how things worked yet, and she was willing to wager his entire species was the same. “Being apart isn’t the end of things, though I’m sure it’s a novel thing for your people. We’ll still meet after, and we’ll still be friends. But this is everything you are out here for, Legion, you have to do this.”

“Your logic is undeniable.” The machine murmured, seeming to resign itself to what it didn’t like even as she’d been speaking. “And you are certain this will not impact our relations?”

“Of course not.” She responded with an earnest, reassuring and simple smile. “And you can use this experience as an example, of organic relations and what comes of them. Time apart is normal.”

“We will accept the request, then.” The machine stood, stopping to retrieve the data-device as it did and gave her a nod. “You will be… Well, while we are gone? You… Your needs are met?”

“I will find work for Credits, but beyond that, I am fine.” The machine’s flanges flicked and she raised a hand, smiling. “I don’t want any of yours, Legion. You will be needing them, and I can readily earn my own.”

“You are certain?”

“I am sure someone on this station would enjoy a guard such as myself, and should worse match worse, I will pursue fighting.” Omega had to have tournaments, after all. It was the perfect place for them. And if it didn’t, she was sure Aria would love seeing her fight. “I’ll talk to Aria for work that fits my… Tastes and talents.”

Meaning, that weren’t anything overtly evil, like drug running or something worse. Or fights to the death for mere amusement, for that matter, though she’d have that out with Aria T’Loak herself if it came to that.

“ExtraNet searches show doctors in the quarantine zone requesting Human medical attendants and bodyguards, citing plague immunity.” It was worrying that such a plague was growing so rapidly on the station… The machine gave her a look after a moment and then nodded, “Doctor Mordin Solus is among them. We recommend working with him. He is a known quantity, and history searches validate him as a good candidate.”

“That… Is not a poor idea.” She decided, standing and giving him a somewhat bittersweet smile. “Farewell, Legion. I shall… Ask Vakarian for a ride and head to meet Mordin.”

Hopefully, he wouldn’t mind giving her a lift back, since she didn’t fancy walking the whole way.

XxX----XxX----XxX

“Thank you for the ride, Sidonis.” She murmured for the tenth time that day, Sidonis chuckling almost nervously and shaking his head wryly at her words. The Turian was, oddly enough, seemingly a man of few words, but he’d been more than happy to give her a ride when she asked. “I know you said it was nothing, but I do appreciate the time and effort of doing it.”

“Like I said, better to get you out of my hair.” He shrugged as the sky-car came to a stop beside Afterlife. Turning and leaning over her, the Turian pointed a talon past a row of pipes and at two sealed doors with tired, dirty looking Omega citizens milling about around them. “One on the right, and hook a right past the corner. Tell the guard you’re working for Solus. Garrus sent a message ahead for you, so you’re expected.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, he’s… He’s a big softy, really.” The Turian’s face seemed pinched at that, but he shrugged it off and waved a hand in her direction in a clear dismissal. Of both his own expression and her raised brow, she guessed. “Probably felt bad for shooting you, even if it didn’t, well… Stick.”

“A common problem for those like me.” Though there were none in this realm, or world, or however one referred to it, the sentiment was true nonetheless. Stepping out onto the dark, firm concrete outside Afterlife. “Have a good-”

With a muted screech, the sky-car listed away and down, dipping out of sight and vanishing into Omega’s bowels. Where he was headed so quickly or why he’d so rudely brushed her off even as friendly as they’d been, she hadn’t the faintest idea, but she shrugged it off and turned to leave regardless. Whatever was the case, it really wasn’t her business. And she was willing to wager he was off on some grand adventure or mission for Garrus and their band of apparent crime fighters.

Because apparently, Omega had those.

For a brief moment, so short it passed inside a single voice, she paused and felt her gaze drawn to the doors of Afterlife. One of the guards there, a Krogan with a thick helmet on, saw her and gave a nod of recognition. She was a known quantity, here in Afterlife, and especially so in her armor and carrying her weapons. She could go and offer her services to Aria for far more credits and influence than Mordin could possibly ever give her. Influence and credits that she and Legion could put to good use in the fight against the Old Machines. Whenever that started, at least, though Liara seemed to believe it would be soon.

Soon for an Asari could be centuries away, though.

“No sense thinking of what may be when you haven’t yet dealt with what is, Pyrrha.” She chided herself gently, offering a respectful nod to the Krogan and turning away, headed the direction Sidonis had pointed out. “One step at a time along the long march to success, as the old king once said.”

It occurred to her that if the fable of the Sisters of the Seasons was true, then the fable of the Old Mountain Kings might be as well. And the King of Black sounded… Familiar.

“I would wager it does, and how kind of you to be thinking of me.” She gasped at the voice, its breath brushing against her ear so intimately she flushed, and spun on her heel. 

In the same motion Omega vanished, the old, grimy station interior replaced by bleak white and rock walls that closed around her and high over her. The god of Darkness chuckled at her holding her sword out towards him and she grimaced, lowering the weapon fearfully. He was larger than she remembered, and lounging on a throne that looked to be made of as much ash as solid rock. Overhead, the ash and rock looked like a cathedral, almost, albeit old looking, dilapidated and crumbling.

“M-My lord.” Almost an after thought, she knelt, laying her weapons on the ground and watching the apathetic face of the ancient deity all the while. When he didn’t speak she swallowed anxiously and asked, in a weak voice, “It is, um, it is good to see you.”

“Oh how I wish you meant those words…” The being sighed and sounded… Morose, in a way that was shockingly surprising to her. Her brow furrowed and he shifted almost uncomfortably, avoiding meeting her eyes for a moment. Finally, he grunted, “Do you know why I wished to revive you?”

“You… Wanted the amusement in watching me fight and flounder.” That had been his original statement, at least, though she wasn’t sure that was the truth now that he asked. Or at least, now that he asked like that. “Is that… Not the reason why you saved me? Or-Or reincarnated me, maybe? I don’t really know the right term for what you did in all honesty...”

“I would say I healed and moved you, since while you did die physically, I plucked your soul and body from your dying point and brought you before me.” The deity helpfully offered in that same ever-present, ever aloof and snarky tone. In a way, he reminded her of Weiss, albeit much bigger and exceedingly more powerful and terrifying. “Frozen in time, I mended your wounds and sent you on your way.”

“I see…” A more conventional form of rescue then, oddly enough considering the whole ‘literal divine intervention’ thing. “So… Why did you save me? Why give me this second chance?”

“...In the old days on the World, your Remnant, my brother and I lived apart from each other by design.” The being began, sounding… Wistful, nearly, though at the same time sneering and dismissive. Like he was deriding his own beliefs and what he himself had done. “Each of us had different tastes for how we wished our homes to look. You have seen his, the trees and stretching oceans full of fish and the like. And this is mine.”

“It… Is?”

“Of course it is! Why else would I dwell in a place with my power? I need not settle for second rate and not attempt to attain my beauty. I…” The deity cut himself off with a sigh and, suddenly enough she stiffened in fear, the deity stood and began to make its way towards her. And then past her, towards the door out of the strange cathedral, “It would be easier to show you, Nikos. Come.”

“Y-Yes! I’m, ah, coming, Lord.” She squeaked, standing and following behind the giant as he led her out, feeling like a child following a parent.

“Tell me what you see, girl.” He said once they were outside, the chill air of the moon-like surroundings brushing against her gently. 

“I see… I see nothing.” She answered, and that was true to her eyes. 

There was nothing around them save a stretching, bleak expanse of silvery-white land and bright, starry skies overhead. In the distance, a massive mountain stretched high into the sky, monolithic and powerful, and her eyes felt drawn up its sharp slopes to the apex. Beyond it, a gas planet sat, storms raging on its surface clear even to her where she stood, and spindled around the peak of the mountain.

“Do you like that view, Pyrrha?” The being asked quietly when he saw her looking and turned to kneel beside her. The woman could only nod, transfixed by the patterns of the storms, and the being chuckled. “Beauty through destruction and simplicity are what I enjoy. And you enjoy it too. You’re doing it even now.”

“I am…” And surprisingly, she was. The way the gas planet backlit and highlighted the mountain was surprisingly splendid, and seemed almost purposeful and tied to the bleakness around her. And that brought her to a realization. “You destroy to shape things, and install bleakness to draw the eye to features you create and their artistry.”

“Precisely!” The being clapped like an excited child and rose, striding forward and spreading its arms as though to encompass the entirety of the mountain and the planet beyond. “Where my brothers fills to the brim his own ideals of beauty until they are mediocre and crushing to the senses, I prefer the bleak to allow the extraordinary to stand out. And I destroy them, inevitably, for the beauty of their destruction and impermanence.”

“An immortal being that prizes the impermanence of things?” The god nodded and she blinked, surprised by the juxtaposition of the idea in her head. “I’d always supposed that one with infinite time would want that which matched their infinite time. Though I suspect that would grow old and stale at some point.”

“Exactly! A wonder my brother lost touch so swiftly…” The deity sighed and shook himself then, and turned to the young woman with his terrifying grin. Or, well, it was a normal grin but his face made it frightening for virtue of how he was made. “You asked why I saved you, and the reason is simple. My brother always got all the worshippers, and even that wretched wraith he tethered to the world loves and obeys him. Yet not a soul ever honestly cared for me in the same way.”

“You want me to… Worship you?”

“I want you to want to, yes.” The being corrected, turning to head into the cathedral once more with the woman trailing unsurely behind him. As he walked, feet thundering on the stone of the ground and leaving imprints half the size of her own body. “I do not want to force it, though. I am not my brother, to lord over those beneath me and demand subservience.”

“Your brother… Forced people to worship him?”

“Nothing so base and simple, I assure you.” He waved her off and sat in his massive chair, the woman only meeting his shoulder while he was lounging. A disparity in size to match the one in power, she supposed. “My brother exchanged favors and granted wishes, the same as I was willing to. Unlike myself, though, he went first and offered them. And then required idolization to continue granting them.”

“What kinds of... Favors?” She asked, feeling a bit… Off put by the idea, with that same typical undertow of suspicion she’d learned from Ozpin and been practicing with Aria and those like her. “That they couldn’t keep from going to him, I mean. I’m assuming they couldn’t, at least.”

“Oh, ha, no they could not. They very, very definitely could not, and for a wide variety of reasons as well.” The deity laughed again, the sound long and harsh as it echoed around them and out across the desolation. “One such favor was bringing rains to otherwise desolate regions. Another was causing fruits to seed more, well forgive me the pun, fruitfully than normal. Now picture what rescinding that gift would do to cities built upon that food.”

“People would starve…”

“And that begot reverence, which then begot zealotry. Soon, those peoples who had never fallen to knees for him were warred against. Oh, my brother didn’t order it, of course. But… Nor did he intervene.” The god sighed and looked to the side then, out the window and at the space away to the other side from the mountain and the gas giant. “Soon, most of the world loved and worshipped him. For fear or not was never relevant.”

“And you were alone, because you didn’t push yourself on others.” Pyrrha guessed, smiling grimly at his curt nod. “That is… Truly tragic.”

“Like dying alone on a tower, saving a man who only knew your love for your farewell kiss?” She flinched and felt tears well up before suddenly, a shadow loomed over her. Gently, almost fearfully, the god of Darkness laid its hand on her head and rubbed it like a parent would a child. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean you harm, little one.”

“I… Figured not. You don’t seem the, well, abusive type. In spite of… Everything.” She didn’t step away from him even if she felt a desire to, instinctual and deep within her. Where it came from, she wasn’t sure, but it was always there. Nagging at the back of her mind. “Both our stories are tragic. Is that… Is that why you chose me? Instead of anyone else?”

“Perhaps, and perhaps not.” The god chuckled, leaning back and sighing, its arms resting in his lap comfortably. “In truth, you were just… Convenient, I suppose is the way to say it. He agreed to my demands, and you were dying in the same moment. So fate fell into place and I plucked you from yours.”

“I see…” And in truth, she did, and for the first time looked up at the being and saw what should have been impossible to even consider for a literal deity. “You’re like me, then. Aren’t you?”

“Hm?”

“Lonely.” She clarified simply, sighing and taking a seat beside the throne, with her back resting against the cool stone of his seat. When he made no move to force her away, she relaxed and explained, “From a young age, I was forced onto a pedestal where no one could reach me, or speak to me without proper reverence and respect. And if none wished to approach me, I would not approach them and shatter their hope filled illusions of my grandeur. And so I stayed alone.”

“In the same way that I was unwilling to foist myself onto others to gain what I desired, you did not force others to see you differently.” Darkness nodded, a long finger drumming on his chin while he leaned on his palm, watching her. “I… Suppose you are right, and we are more similar than I would have considered. Fate, maybe.”

“Would a god be ruled by fate?”

“It would appear so, even if I don’t care to think about it.” The being shrugged, seemingly casting aside the conversation in a deep breath and sigh. “Regardless, my brother advised that I should tell you I wanted to earn your faith. And to give you something to pave the way towards that.”

“Give me something...?”

“Oh yes. Something from your own world and realm, and someone you ought to enjoy, from my observations of you.” He snapped his fingers and a sound like thunder rumbled through the world around them. With it came a sound like shattering stone, and roaring fire, before the deity sighed contentedly and relaxed in his throne. “Oh, I love breaking the laws of reality… This is the second time I’ve gotten to do this.”

“The second…” She stood and looked out across the cathedral, but didn’t see anything but crumbling stone and old architecture. “What did you-”

“Salutations, friend Pyrrha!” An old, familiar voice called from her side, the woman rounding suddenly and stiffening at the innocent, smiling face that blinked up at her. Grinning wider, Penny bounced and clapped, “Oh it is so good to see you again! I had feared we would never speak again, friend Pyrrha!”

All Pyrrha managed to do was scream and flail.

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Espa’s Message Zone of Messaging :

Hello everyone, this is the Mastermind that thought up this interesting story and pitched it to Twisted. I must say I am both surprised and happy at how popular this story has become. Those that have followed or subscribed to this story thank you for showing us that you enjoy the story. 

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Dragoon : 

What characters say and feel are not reflections of my opinions, or objective truth, but theirs. To some, Salem not mentioning speaking to Darkness’ brother is enough for a lie. Also, why wouldn’t Darkness care about pettiness? Genuinely curious, as it would shape the character.

Pyrrha’s death literally precipitated the crippling of Cinder Fall and the destruction of Kevin, the Grimm Dragon, through Ruby, for instance. Victory is not what she accomplished, but that doesn’t mean she accomplished nothing. 

Thermidor 606 :

Thank you~!

Over Lad (Guest) :

Darkness is who he is. He likes monsters, blowing stuff up, and so on. He still wants love, though, as evidenced by his eagerness when Salem came to him. He wants these things, but doesn’t understand how to go about getting them.

Japanese Optics :

Espa relayed your review to me and I will say to you what I said to him. I have them in view for MUCH longer, thus the added depth. Glad you are enjoying it though!


	9. Chapter 9

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“Y-You… But I-” She choked on the words, on what she’d been about to say and what she’d done, and Penny cocked her head to the side in confusion. Anger, revulsion, and confusion warred inside of her while she stammered like a frightened child would when they saw a ghost. “Penny we, I, that is to say you were… In the tournament I-I didn’t mean to, I swear, it… It wasn’t-”

“What is wrong, Friend Pyrrha?” The android asked quietly, face a mask of innocent confusion and head cocked to the side. Taking a wary step towards her, with the watching god at her back, Penny smiled and offered a hand, “Whatever is the problem, we can get through it together. We are friends after all, aren’t we?”

“B-But I… Penny, don’t you remember?” That had to be it, she decided, turning her gaze on the dark god looming over them and scowling. Even as frightened as she was of the great being she still had to ask, as politely as she could manage through her hammering heart and roaring nerves. “Did you play with her mind? I know you are able to do so, you’ve quelled my emotions before.”

“Your faith in me is absolutely lovely to behold, my dear.” The dark being chuckled, the sound rolling into a tired sigh as her eyes narrowed. Shaking its great head and then leaning his chin on the palm of his hand, elbow on his throne’s arm, he answered boredly. “I did nothing to the little thing. She’s simply too sickly sweet to blame you for an accident.”

“Thank you!” Penny turned, beaming a smile up at the surprised deity. “I always try to be sweet and kind to my friends. And you saved my life, so you’re my friend too!”

“I… Am a god-”

“Who is my friend!” Penny nodded simply, the deity turning purple eyes on the still shocked Mistralian, clearly begging for help. Penny misunderstood the look, or didn’t care about the real reason, and turned to smile at Pyrrha as well. “And you are my friend as well, Friend Pyrrha. Even if you were made to accidentally dismember me, I assure you it is all quite alright.”

“I dismembered you…”

“It was an accident! And really, what is a little dismemberment between good friends?” Murder, Pyrrha wanted to say. It was murder, but the bubbly little android’s wide smile and bright eyes robbed the words from her. “So let’s leave it in the past and move on, like friends should when they accidentally murder each other.”

“B-But I…”

“I forgive you. That’s what matters, right? So now we can be friends again! Like before, but better and closer friends.” Growing more serious when Pyrrha didn’t respond, instead stuck doing her best impression of a breathless fish, Penny spoke, “My power capacitors let me see for a time after my disassembly. I saw the look on your face. You were shocked, broken. I don’t believe that you meant to hurt me.”

“She was tricked by the Semblance of another, which pushed her past what her already taxed mind could take.” Darkness offered, the Mistralian and Android gazes both snapping to him in surprise. With a sardonic roll of his great, violet eyes, the creature sighed. “And you both forgot I knew all for my godly sight. Didn’t you?”

“In fairness, a deity is a very strange friend to have. And we only just met so it is completely understandable we wouldn’t know you so well yet!” The deity groaned at the contradiction there, but waved Penny off. Arguing with her, Pyrrha had swiftly learned even by just watching her with team RWBY, was a pointless affair. Still he grumbled about being her god not her friend, and Penny pouted cutely. “You saved me, and brought me back to my friend to make things right, so you are my friend.”

“You should just give up.” Pyrrha coached gently, finally feeling a sense of calm wash over her. Darkness’ interference, she assumed, shrugging it off and sighing. Blinking, she added a more reverent, “My Lord, I mean. You should, uh, give up. Penny can be quite assertive about who her friends are.”

“Don’t force it now. We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself or anything silly like that, hm?” The being chuckled, though, and seemed content with the respectful term regardless of his snipping. Finally, he turned his gaze on Penny and nodded gently. “Call me what you like, girl. I find that I do not care.”

“Understood, Friend God.”

“Right…” The deity shook its head and turned to Pyrrha now, moving on and ignoring the bubbly android’s ‘sickly sweetness’ as he’d called it. Instead, he spoke in a more firm, official way to her. “You will reappear in your world close to your destination. Penny shall be with you, and how you two come together is your own problem to solve.”

“I understand.” She nodded, giving Penny a look and explaining in brief, “I, that is to say we now so long as you agree, are headed to guard a free clinic on a space station. It should be rather safe, and the doctor there is a good man, albeit… Strange. So long as you keep secret what you are, it should all be well.”

“A real space station?” Her eyes widened when Pyrrha nodded, silently praying the girl had heard everything else she’d said. Clapping her hands, the girl bounced on her heels and giggled excitedly. “Sensational! Absolutely sensational! Oh, if only Father could see it… He so loved the ideas of going to space, even as impossible as he assured me it was to accomplish such in his lifetime.”

The mention of her father seemed to dim her mood for a moment, her gaze turning hazy and unfocused while she stood frozen where she was. Then she blinked, smiled again, and gave Pyrrha a look, “Oh, I am so excited!”

“Penny…”

“Should you need to speak with me, you need only pray.” The god cut in, not wanting to extend their being in his realm any further. Or feeling left out of an emotional conversation, she supposed. Clasping his hands in a pantomime of a maiden, the god dramatized, “Oh dear Lord of Darkness and my savior, I beg of you for a favor! That sort of thing. Got it?”

“I suppose…?”

“Yes, Friend Lord of Darkness and-”

“That isn’t my name, girl, I just meant to show how you both should… Ugh. Forget it.” The deity waved her off and reclined in his throne, seeming tired but… Satisfied, in a way she couldn’t claim to understand but still saw. It was in the way he sat, shoulders sloped comfortably and chin in his hands, relaxed rather than tense. “Now, if none of the students have any questions, I can return you and-”

“Mm!” Penny grunted, actually raising her hand and bouncing on her heels. 

“Is she…?” Darkness’ violet eyes turned to the Mistralian and Pyrrha grimaced. 

“She is raising her hands to ask a question, yes.” A blink again and she stammered, adding an out of habit, “M-My lord, I mean. You, ah, you did ask if the students had any questions, after all.”

“This is my existence now, isn’t it…? This is it. Dealing with attitude and snark from a girl I am unable to be angry with.” The deity sighed and waved towards the android girl, sounding even more exhausted but oddly amused. “Fine. Ask your question, girl. I’ll remember to be more literal next time to avoid this but I am a primordial force of fury of my word.”

“Why do you keep calling me ‘girl’? And who is going to maintain my inner mechanisms? And-” The deity held up a hand and Penny paused, smiling pleasantly while the god pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. When he didn’t speak, Penny rattled out, “Sorry, I had a few questions, because you kept talking and I kept thinking up more.”

“I call you girl because you are one, and I’m feeling snide, frankly. It’s a character quirk of mine, being snide all the time. You’ll adapt to it, I’m sure.” Penny preened at that answer, oddly, and Pyrrha had to fight not to giggle. He knew them, she was fully aware, and thus knew Penny better than even she did. And he seemed to be playing off of something, which was making the android happy. “The second question is rather simple, really. Your internals are infused with my own blessings and will mend over time. For energy, simply eat a meal or, more rapidly if you need it, touch raw electricity somehow. That will give you a boost.”

“Can I taste food?” Penny suddenly erupted, “Please tell me I can taste food!”

“You can, yes, I felt that-” The being sighed as Penny squeed excitedly and then, seeing his agitation, coughed into a hand and smiled apologetically. Giving her a look to see if she intended to actually remain calm, he finally sighed. “Now I am afraid we are out of time for questions. Do your homework, or don’t, have some drugs, whatever. I’m sending you back now.” 

Neither got the chance to speak before his fingers snapped and thunder rolled, the two blinking owlishly at the filthy walls of an Omega alleyway. Grimy, crossed overhead by old and rusty piping with a grated walkway - or the bottom of a room, you could never tell frankly - and lined in garbage and sleeping people, it was everything she was used to. Gently, and fighting her own once again rising guilt, Pyrrha took one of Penny’s hands and tugged her toward the end of the alleyway.

“Penny, this is Omega. You need to be careful, here, as people aren’t friendly and will turn on you if you-”

“So it is like Vacuo from our home is then?” Pyrrha gave the girl a look as they stepped out into a wider passage of sorts, the sounds of the crazy preacher she’d been told about reaching her. Smiling primly as they walked toward a distant checkpoint and the trio of guards at it, minding the quarantine, Penny explained, “Father always said the same of Vacuo. That you couldn’t trust those ‘patent ignoring sandy gits’, as he phrased it.”

“Yes. Just like Vacuo, yes, people here aren’t… Trustworthy all the time.” No, Vacuoans were a more kindly, honorable people than one would expect. A product of the harsh desert and nomadic life, apparently. But it made explaining it to Penny easier, and when it came to those particular kinds of battles she didn’t mind cheating. “Just follow my lead and you will be fine, alright? And for the love of the God of Darkness, don’t let anyone try and sell you anything.”

“I will trust what you say, Friend Pyrrha.” The girl nodded, beaming a smile and waving at a Batarian as they passed by. The alien scowled but Penny seemed unbothered, instead turning her head to look around as they made their way. “Everything here is so interesting! And dirty. Do you think they need me to show the Atlesian maintenance protocols?”

“No, Penny.” She rolled her eyes but she smiled nonetheless, grateful for a reminder of home. Even laced with lingering regret as it was, if was a comfort. “Just come with me. We’ve a nice alien man to protect, after all.”

“Mhm!” She nodded eagerly, seeming at once like a little girl even as she rolled her shoulders and grinned widely. “We will disassemble anyone who thinks they can hurt your friends, Friend Pyrrha. Do not fret, I am combat ready.”

The combination of adorable little girl and apparent murder bot was… An odd one, to say the least. But one she ignored well enough, pausing to introduce herself so the guards - and her Human escorts, apparently - let her by and showed her through to Mordin’s Clinic. What she had to say wouldn’t reveal their secrets, so she took the time to relay how Penny would need to behave on Omega as they walked.

Starting with a ban on Penny ever going into Afterlife by herself, or preferably at all.

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“So, Brother?” His aggravating, no doubt eavesdropping sibling started significantly less than a quarter of an hour after the children - his children now, he supposed - had been sent on their way. Shining as sickeningly bright through their communication portal as always, and smiling to boot, the other god asked, “How did it go? Did you take my advice, ask them to actually pray? Make your desires known?”

“You were watching, I don’t doubt it for a moment, so you would know. Wouldn’t you?” He was mildly satisfied when the golden one grimaced and stiffened, if only for a split second. The Favored One was always watching, he’d learned that eons ago. And there was no point arguing over it, as it was in his brother’s nature, and he wouldn’t oppose that. “As I thought, you are ever the predictable one. So, tell me how you felt it went, Brother.”

“Before or after the elder girl stopped screaming?” Darkness snorted at the joke and that seemed to ease the tension between them, if only just. Though the Light God’s expression grew stern in the emptied air, and Darkness knew he was about to become patronizing again. “I believe it went well, actually. They speak to you with reverence in their wording, at least, though you should discipline them when they fail to. Not wave it off.”

“They are learning fast enough, Brother.” He argued simply, idly inspecting one of his nails like he was checking for dirt. An act in futility both were aware of, since dirt couldn’t cling to him any more than a blade could cut him or a bullet could penetrate his divine skin. As always, though, his brother didn’t rise to the petty baiting. “And those two are a grateful, dutiful kind of people. Especially young Pyrrha, which is part of why I so eagerly picked her. Once they adapt to having a god watching over them, and fully come to terms with their changes, they will do it simply to make me happy out of gratitude.”

“You could enforce it.” Light remarked dryly, speaking in that quiet, tired voice he often used when he broached a topic he believed would front an argument. Typically, he was right about that, too. “Cow them into submission, maybe. Or make them reliant on your powers, perhaps in the form of gifted magic or weaponry to protect themselves even better.”

“I want true love and devoted adoration, Brother. Not the fear and the adulation of trembling slaves, afraid not to kneel and grovel and have me strike them down.” That actually drew a scowl from his light-aligned brother and a smile from his own dark visage. It was so rare that his brother scowled that way, and he had to fight not to capitalize on it and be petty, even with the quite literally golden opportunity presented to him. “I rule my subjects as I see fit, just as you did back on the World. That is how it has always been.”

“Yes, because my way earned me more of what we both desired. Love, worship, adulation, servitude and above all obedience.” Light countered hotly, voice low and only just echoing with a crackle of heat and fury. A crackle that was as to a roar to Darkness’ experienced ears, for his brother was normally so reserved. “Yours, on the other hand, had you alone. Only worshipped in any extent by fools sacrificing each other to your Grimm, thieves and murderers, and the like. None of whom came to see you in your holds.”

“One did, if you recall.” He challenged, “She came to me to ask my favor and prostrate herself, and you took exception to that.”

“She sought to trick you, Brother, and you know this.” Light snapped hotly, now breaking free of even his own imposed discipline and cold visage. Swiftly, though, it was back and he spoke more, tone quieter and calmer. “And then she brought our own creations and servants against us when we punished her. Our own children turned against us, if you recall.”

“Your creations and your servants you mean.” Darkness corrected, raising an ethereal brow and grinning widely. “And besides, we both now know how your chosen punishment turned out at its ultimate end. Don’t we?”

“Brother…” Light warned, voice frosty in an ironic way, given his sun-like appearance. Around him, his asinine natural scape dimmed, the animals and insects skittering away from him like they sensed a storm. Which wasn’t exactly an inaccurate way of seeing what was coming, Darkness supposed. “Do not tread there again, my Brother. We have made amends for that between us, I thought.”

“I have forgiven your little betrayal, yes.” Light seemed to relax at the words even if his eyes narrowed at how he phrased them, but still those dim silver eyes watched him. Waiting for the other foot to fall, he supposed. A wait that Darkness wasn’t going to so cruelly drag out. “What I have not quite gotten over is that you made us hypocrites in the eyes of those who might find out your indiscretions. Your change of mind to slight the woman and your… Other ones.”

“I don’t know what you-”

“Do not think to lie to me, Brother.I see and know as much as you, through the eyes of my children.” He hissed, watching his beloved brother’s mouth shut with a muted ‘click’ of shock and shame. Rare emotions from the deity, to be sure, and for a moment he felt a pang of guilt at having stirred them up. “My lovely creatures are weak to your powers, did you not think I would notice your creations being gifted enough of your authority to so easily destroy them?”

“Your beasts ran amok in the borderlands, Brother.” He answered simply,voice low and cowed for once. Even if it was only temporary, it still told the tale of his brother’s regret at them arguing over something. “My worshippers pleaded for my aid. It was gift those warriors with my blessed eyes or intervene myself. I felt you would prefer their being gifted a modicum of power to my direct, personal interference.”

“Indeed, and I have known of that for centuries upon centuries yet I didn’t care when it happened nor do I care now. No, as always I leave you to do with your followers as you see fit.” The point was made and, begrudgingly, Light nodded understandingly and Darkness sighed. “And I demand the same courtesy, though I do appreciate your input. That’s all.”

“A fair demand.” Light sighed, “Very well, then, I’ll leave it be.”

“That is all I could ever ask you to do, Brother.” A bit rude to say, frankly, but he didn’t much feel the need to not barb him a bit here and there. It would be too unnatural for either of them if he didn’t snipe. “Beyond our difference of approach, then, how do you feel things went?”

“Well enough.” Light answered with a tired, weary sigh that spoke volumes of him being glad the argument part was over. Then he smirked cheekily, and Darkness was already sighing before he started to speak, “I did find it quite adorable how you kept calling the synthetic ‘girl’ because you knew she wants to be one.”

“That is not why I did it.”

“I believe it is.” Light argued, “I believe you are quite soft hearted, deep down, in fact.”

With a flick, Darkness dispelled his brother’s connection to him and he growled, flexing a finger. Distantly, he felt a mountain’s death knell as it was annihilated and he sighed. Catharsis was a pleasant experience, really. And a needed one, after his brother started being cheeky with him or they quarrelled. At least this time, he’d not resorted to blowing up moons and planets to be rid of his fury.

Though, that gas giant could do with one less, and he was rather bored…

XxX----XxX----XxX

Penny Soul Guy (Guest) :

Depends on your interpretation of Penny, souls, AI sentience and so on. For me, I see no way Penny’s data could get to Atlas with the CCT destroyed and thus a direct transmission impossible. The next step would be a nearby Atlesian storage place, but all of Ironwood’s ships were destroyed, so THAT wouldn’t work either. Another Penny could be built, of course, but without the memories, experiences and ideas Penny Mark I experienced, that would be a different end person. And even WITH THEM, she’d be a twin, not the original Penny.

Mr Medan (guest) :

I agree! That is all. 

Mercenary 9814 :

Good! Because there will be lasers.

Japanese Optics : 

Glad you’re enjoying! Thank Espa.

The Prime Cronos :

Oh, but I can be serious! I just tend to prefer not to be. XD

Knightwolf :

Not at all! I do too.

Henri :

Spoilers~

Red Shirts :

Abused in like… A bad way, or teasing? *concerned character builder noises*

Green the Ryno :

Oh shit… OH SHIT! *pins that comment*

Omega Ultima :

Nu, don’t ship the robot loli. She needs protecc!


	10. Chapter 10

XxX----XxX----XxX

Official Supporters: 

Grand Priestess, Luna Haile. 

High Priests, Alvelvnor, Gage. 

Priests, The Impossible Muffin, Xager the Chaos King. 

Adeptus, Private Wilger

Ze Nope Rope, Kaiser Snek, Snekiest Snek

Acolytes, DigiDemonLord, Stonecold

Initiates, Greg Gibson, Espa Cole

If you want to be on the Supporter list, PM one of us for details or join our private server for details. Hope you enjoy reading my stories, please leave me a comment to let me know if you did, or where I can improve. Link here, where able to be seen : https://discord.gg/2UZncAm

Second link here, remove spaces and it SHOULD work : D iscord . gg (slash) kfhkfUb

I have a kofi account now, too, under this name for those interested.

Beta : 

XxX----XxX----XxX

The last chapter was short because the two scenes I wanted before this chapter were way faster than expected, and I don’t like the feel of a timeskip in a chapter’s middle so I figured I’d run straight on into this one. Be warned, if that label applies here, that going forward Shepard will add to the small list of people getting POV segments. 

Enjoy~!

XxX----XxX----XxX

Mordin’s Clinic was a moderate affair as far as she was willing to describe it, but a place Pyrrha was more than glad to find on the station. Between Garrus’ fighting for the common man throughout Omega as Archangel to Mordin’s free, if small, clinic she had gotten to see something new and unique. At least, new and unique for Omega and what she understood it as. Charity, honor, kindness and duty were displayed here and there, with the Turian she’d not spoken to since she met him on the night he shot her. And seeing all of these things had done her good, restoring in her a faith in people she’d felt growing tenuous and ropy of late.

Minus the getting shot part, of course, though she didn’t much mind that since her Aura had taken the blow.

The clinic itself was simple, with a defensive setup that had her at the same time comforted and paranoid. Why Mordin had designed it that way, she didn’t know and likely never would, but it was defensive. A heavy door with a camera over it let into a curved hallway, with a sharp curve that guards could take cover behind - and had, once or twice, in the week and change she’d been there for - with an enclosed security checkpoint stocked with rifles and ammunition for those inside. 

Past that was a large enough waiting and admissions area, with a handful of Loki mechs for added protection that she… Tried to ignore, as best she could. 

The welcoming area was a simple affair too, though, with iron benches to sit on and tired volunteers taking complaints and helping people around as best they could. Most, now, were Humans due to the Plague, but she saw an Asari now and again, serving as a doctor for the clinic. One of five, in as many medical rooms with a couple storage ones for supplies and, rarely but regretfully, the bodies of those that couldn’t be saved, waiting to be toted off for disposal.

Luckily, she thought as she pulled open the door into the little hallway that led into the clinic, she and Penny didn’t work there.

“Nikos! Penny! Good you’re finally fuckin’ here.” Adrian, the Human on guard today with enough energy to talk, called as soon as they saw it. Pushing off the wall to the side of the security booth, the man was armored in old, black combat gear and fatigues, and grinning like a child in spite of the salt and pepper hair and stubby beard, left bare since he didn’t have a helmet. “Been quiet enough today, least ‘round here. How’s things up near your little stop?”

“Fine enough.” Pyrrha answered simply, thinking of the little one-room squat they’d been given to camp in. It wasn’t ideal, but there was a shower at the clinic, and Mordin kept them fed while they did their good work, so she supposed all was well as she could expect. “The Blue Suns are… Rather polite, really, once they realize you work here.”

“Plague there yet?”

“No.”

“What about fighting?” The security chief asked, turning to let them follow him into the clinic, past sick and coughing aliens lined on the benches and waiting for treatment. “Been getting bad at the edge of the gang-lines, and you’re near enough. Looters? Threats? You know you can take a spot here, overnight. I stay in the locker room most nights, now.”

“We are perfectly safe, thank you, Friend Adrian!” Penny chipped in, waving eagerly with both hands as they entered the main room of the clinic. Coughing, exhausted patients and beleaguered nurses smiled as they passed, cheered by the bright eyes and beaming smile she offered them. “Most of the residents in our area evacuated back before the quarantine was put into full effect. And the Blue Suns are a workable police force. They respect us and escort us through the area until we get outside.”

“Still?”

“‘The doc is crazy, but I hear he has a cure, so you best keep him safe.’ That’s what they say, walking us down.” It was because of that fight, she knew. Far enough ago people didn’t fawn anymore, but something mercenaries would no doubt pay attention to. “They want Mordin safe, so he can treat them too when the time comes.”

Though if they thought she could handle herself so well as to be important, she questioned sending two rifleman for escort duty. 

“That’s one thing I don’t get, really.” Adrian sighed, running fingers through his hair while he pulled the armor off and stuffed it into one of the old, rusty lockers in the dingy locker room. Giving the two women a look of confusion, with a cocked smile to boot, he asked, “Why are the Suns still here? Mercenaries like to play cop, but why are they doing it now? With the Plague around?”

“Ask them, I suppose.” She shrugged, stepping back so another one of the security officers could slide by, dropping his chestplate in a locker as he sluggishly walked by. Once he was gone, she continued, “But as Penny said, up there towards the quarantine border is quiet enough for comfort. Down here is where the worries are, with the gangline so close.”

“Well, I’m out. You two keep an eye out, been hearing gunshots for a while. Pretty loud, too.” He gave them each a nod and a smile, stepping past and towards the door with a backward wave. “Would stay and chat, but the missus would have words about me bein’ late to get home for chatting up two lil’ cuties. Right?”

“We heard them as well.” The staccato was unmistakable, foreign rifles and technology or not. “We’ll protect this place, do not fear. How goes work on getting the cure ready for all species?”

“Turians and Asari are golden, but we roll it out without treatments for Batarians and Krogans too and there will be hell to pay.” The man sighed, shaking his head tiredly and checking his pockets to make sure he had everything. Offering a last smile and a wave, he pushed the door open, “You girls be safe, now. I’ll see ya again at shift change.”

Without another word, eager to leave rather than impolite she knew, he tugged the door open and vanished. Exchanging little smiles, the two women opened the door right beside it, pushing into the security booth and taking a seat. As always, after a couple quiet minutes, Penny was the first to speak.

“Do you think we will be needed today?” She asked, giving Pyrrha a look beside her. Pyrrha hummed her question, and Penny offered in the same bright voice as always. “The fighting has been getting closer daily. At the current rate of expansion, it should be just outside the door by the end of the day. I am combat ready, but if we fight people… Krogan won’t walk away.”

“Worried?” Pyrrha certainly was, to say the least, but she smiled regardless to put on an air of confidence. All the better to calm her younger comrade, and something she’d been taught growing up in Mistral. “I’ve fought Krogan and been told they are the strongest, physically speaking. And the most durable as well. Avoid direct concussive blows and you’ll win any fight you come into.”

“Fighting I do not fear. However, I have never taken a life.” The android answered gently, smile slipping away at the word. After a moment of staring at nothing, her bright eyes turned to Pyrrha and she asked, “What do I do, if a Krogan refuses to relent? I do not like the idea of taking life.”

“Neither do I, Penny.” Even if she had already, as odd as that was to think on with her victim talking to her. Sighing, she shrugged, “I suppose we will have to do what we must, to defend this place.”

“Mhm.” Penny nodded, “We will. Friend Mordin is nice, and I will protect his place for him like he asks.”

“Yeah…” She smiled, and then let out a sigh as she relaxed into the old, rusted chair as much as she could manage. Which wasn’t much, frankly, but she didn’t really feel a need to make a point of complaining about it. “He’s a good man, alien or not. How are you coping with the whole ‘alien’ aspect, by the by?”

“I am well.” Penny nodded, seeming to grow excited as she turned to the Mistralian and started bouncing on her seat. With a tired, but nonetheless completely content, sigh Pyrrha settled in for her to ramble and smiled. “They are all so interesting, though. Did you know Turians are not based on the same amino structure people are? Simply touching a Turian’s bare skin could cause you to break out in a rash!”

“Is that why they wear layers like that?”

“Yes. Turians wear layers due to their close interactions with non-Dextro races, and thus the propensity for severe allergic culture shocks from incidental contact.” Penny explained, talking as much with her hands as with her words. Gently, she poke Pyrrha’s armored stomach and grinned, “Just that, and you’d have an itch. And a red spot, too, and not from the pointy talon bit.”

While she rambled, Pyrrha kept a close watch on the door. Or at least as close as she could manage, with the little android rambling on in her ear. She didn’t mind it, of course, simply smiling and humming as the girl rattled on amicably. It was nice to have her there, even if she kept remembering the sight of circuits and limbs sparking and flying. Her own miseries, though, and not anything she’d let cause Penny to be sad for even a moment.

A little discomfort was nothing after what she’d done to her, accident or not.

XxX----XxX----XxX

“You’re clear, you can go on in. Aria’s already expecting you.” The bouncer said, eyeing the well-armed Zaeed for a moment before turning predatory Turian eyes on Miranda. The Cerberus symbol, her Predator on her hip, or something less savory, Shepard wasn’t sure. Regardless, the Turian shrugged sharp, armored shoulders and added a clipped, “Weapons on your waist inside the club.”

“We understand.” She assured him, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder and making a show of her Mantis on her back. “Wouldn’t do me much good, such close quarters, anyway.”

“No, it wouldn’t.” The Turian noted her Predator on her waist with an eye, then met her gaze to make a point, and jerked his head towards the door. “Name’s Talon in there and to you, Commander. You are her, right? The Commander Shepard?”

“Yeah, that’s what they tell me.” The red-haired woman nodded, offering a polite smile and shrugging, playing the diplomat as she was wont to. Or as her job had always been, at least. At a look, Miranda grabbed Zaeed by the forearm and made an excuse for them to walk off, towards the landing cars. “Been off in deep-cover for a while. I wasn’t told the cover story they were putting up for me. Is it true they said I…?”

“Died? Yeah, it was all over the ExtraNet.” The Turian gave his fellow a look and the Krogan nodded, recognizing her as the ‘VIP’ she’d been told she was being treated as after charming the Batarian a bit. Turning, they moved away, standing by a railing beside the club, and he raised a glowing arm. “Here, see? ‘Normandy Attack, the Commander goes Down With Her Ship’. Still doin’ conspiracy articles on it.”

“Figures, yeah. And this time, it’ll be the truth, too. That’ll be fun… What kind are they makin’ up?” She asked, leaning over his shoulder to pretend to read it. ‘Diana Allers, but I don’t see any conspiracy here… Just talking about me.’ “This one seems normal enough, though.”

“I like her ‘cuz she just states the facts. She has an opinion section for her own thoughts, though. Here.” With a flick of a talon, the Turian scrolled down for her and let her see it. A smiling image of an attractive young woman met her, but the Turian didn’t play the video, instead just explaining. “She likes to say that you were probably off on some mission, if you were alive. She wouldn’t say if she believed you were, though.”

“Probably trying to avoid being wrong in either case. Reporters do that a lot more than you’d think, feigning a lack of opinion and coming out with a ‘as this reporter suspected’ only when they know the truth for sure.” She shrugged, the armor of her shoulder clanking as she did and drawing the Turian’s eye to her technically falsified N7 insignia. 

His gaze lingered and she grinned, seizing an opportunity to ingratiate herself to a potential contact. 

“So what do you think?” She smiled, cocking a hip and pressing a fist to it in a veneer of confidence and charisma, smiling lopsidedly to sell it, “Am I real, or a fake? The Batarian scanned me, said I was the real deal as far as he and Aria were concerned. What do you think?”

“Why does it matter what I think?” A spiny eyebrow steepled with the question and he clarified, waving a taloned hand towards the large door. “I’m just a bouncer, Ma’am. What I think doesn’t matter ‘cept when I’m deciding if someone comes in or not.”

“My line of work, you make friends where you can. And if we’re making friends, I wanna know your honest opinion.” And she needed to test him, to see if contacting her old team was worth even trying. If he was anything less than on board, she could reasonably expect the same amount of suspicion coming from cerberus channels and a Cerberus ship calling out or carrying her in to see someone. “Am I the real deal, you think? Savior of the galaxy, and all that?”

“Looks like it, yeah. And I mean, you passed the GenScan that Aria had run on you, so…” He shrugged, lukewarm as she’d feared, and seemed to flinch when her mask fell and she scowled. She masked it in a small smile before he could react, though, and he asked, “Was that, uh, all you needed, Commander? If Aria finds out I kept you from going to see her, she’d have my hide.”

“Actually, I was wondering if you’d tell me about that plague.” She pressed, folding an arm under her bust and leaning her elbow on it, tapping an armored finger to her chin and looking off towards the passageway that she knew lead to it. EDI had her advantages, regardless of how she felt about the surprise AI thrust on her. “Heard it was pretty bad, but didn’t target Humans or Vorcha. Any idea why?”

“Ask a Batarian, it’s cuz Humans made it.” The Turian scoffed, though, and shook his head. When she raised her eyebrow, drumming a long finger on her chin thoughtfully, the Turian started to explain. “Doesn’t make sense for Humans to make it if Vorcha would be immune, too. Those little shits work for the ‘Pack, and the ‘Pack holds a lot of the slums. The Humans are getting thrashed over it, if they haven’t left or let the Suns take up protecting them.”

“The Blue Suns are protecting people? Like, the Blue Suns, I mean. Drug runners and security guys, those Suns.” She raised her voice just enough for Zaeed to hear her, and saw him turn. But she gave a little shake of her head and held a finger up. He missed the signal but Miranda didn’t, grabbing his arm and saying something that had him wait. “Doesn’t seem their style, does it?”

“On Omega, there isn’t a police outfit. Gangs slice up the territories and long as they enforce the Queen’s law, they’re left alone. Suns do that like anybody else, and a lot of people sign up just to do that here with them and Eclipse.” The Turian shrugged, then, and waved a taloned hand towards the Quarantine Zone’s only entrance in the distance with a sigh. “Quarantine went up, their men went in to keep the peace, the ‘Pack in there lost their shit. It’s a warzone on the lower levels, and if Solus hadn’t cured Turians in the Suns so they could shelter the refugees, the ‘Pack would be running the show and ripping people apart.”

“Huh. Guess things out this way are different than Alliance space after all.” It made sense why some would come out here, in that case. Or, well, made more sense she supposed. Just running from the law and seeking adventure had been more than enough for plenty, she was sure. “Are things bad in there?”

“Aria had to replace some Quarantine guards with her own people a while back, since the Suns were losing people.” To the Plague or the fighting it had caused, he didn’t say, and she had a suspicion that was because it was either to both or he didn’t know. A dry spot in her well of information, she supposed, moving on when he started talking again. “Hey, you’re… Why are you askin’ about the ‘Zone, anyway?”

“My missions turned from a cold and quiet one to a hot and violent one pretty quick.” She gestured to Zaeed with a gentle jerk of her head and the Turian nodded, knowing a hired, experienced gun when he saw one. Smiling apologetically, she went on, “You’re Turian, so you get that I can’t get into it…?”

“Yep, I very much do.” The alien laughed, shaking its head wryly and clicking its mandibles in a friendly display, “I can do without the death squads, yeah. I know how the Hegemony handles its secret business, can’t imagine the Alliance or the Council are much better for people knowin’ what they shouldn’t.”

“Well, I need Mordin’s help with something. And now you told me where to go and what is going on…” She took a step and turned, giving him a roguish smile and a nod. His eyes widened in realization that she was leaving and she called to him, bouncing on a heel as she turned, “Tell Aria I’ll be back once I know Mordin is safe and secure. Operational security meant I needed speed!”

“B-But she’ll be pissed!”

“I’ll buy her a drink, then!” She laughed, turning grave as she started walking towards the doors that lead to the quarantine zone and her team fell into step with her. Her arm snapped up and she connected to the Normandy, barking, “EDI, get your hacking software running. I want a message sent to the Quarantine guards ordering them to let me through.”

“Yes, Commander.” The AI answered, “It will take but a moment.”

“She’d have let us in anyway ya know.” Zaeed pointed out, not complaining as they stepped through the door and rounded a corner, heading towards a guard as he brought an arm up to check his message from ‘Aria’. “Why the tricks and shit?”

“Aria wants me to come and bend the knee, give her respect before she allows me to do as I want.” She grinned, rolling her shoulders and getting ready for the fights she expected to come soon enough. There was always a fight wherever she went, after all, and she certainly didn’t expect a wartorn, Plague ridden set of slums to be much different. “Let her find out I left and not be able to do anything. We get Mordin, show her not to fuck with me, and then we make nice looking for Archangel.”

“Unless, of course, he ends up being killed by the mercenaries hounding him.” Miranda helpfully pointed out while they muscled past a disgruntled looking checkpoint guard and an agitated woman in dirty, ratty clothes. 

Neither were worth their time, at the moment at least. And besides, both would accept apologies later if she made an excuse of dealing with the Plague. That guard had mentioned Mordin had a cure of sorts set up, for Turians at least, so she was willing to bet he had the rest dealt with too. And for that bet, she was willing to make a show of rushing to protect the people, and letting Aria step on the landmine of bitching about her moving to curtail a literal plague that could kill most of the station if she wanted.

Fuck, it was good to be back.

XxX----XxX----XxX

The first hour had passed by mostly peacefully, aside from the occasional wounded Suns soldier walking through the door or Plague victims coming in. Soon, though, things began to take a turn as the sounds of fighting worsened and grew nearer. More wounded, more sick, and occasionally even a ‘Pack thug they had to fend off and send packing. Now, the Blue Suns were holding a barricade down the street from the clinic, protecting it and holding their ground while the clinic handled the wounded sent their way.

Pyrrha helped the wounded in, so Penny could watch the door, since between them Penny was more able to tie up and disarm a fighter with less exertion.

“Doctor Solus!” Pyrrha called out as she staggered in through the door that lead out to the little passageway, a wounded, wheezing, blue-armored Turian hanging off her. A nurse, old and grey haired with a soft smile for the Turian in spite of his hazy eyes and bleeding side, took his weight on his other side to help her and led the way as she toted him further inside, “Where is Doctor Solus? We have a wounded Turian with the Plague, he needs treatment for both.”

“Table three. Nurse, start stripping armor.” Solus ordered as they entered his working room, four beds pressed against the walls to either side with laboratory equipment shoved on the other side of the beds. He saw Pyrrha looking and offered rapidly, “Cure complete. Now only need application method.”

“Wait, the cure is finished?” Mordin nodded, looked over the soldier and then turned to leave, apparently satisfied his personal attention was unneeded. Quashing her momentary relief, she refocused and turned to the nurse helping her lift the Turian onto the bed where he slumped down finally. “Do you need any help, Ma’am?”

“I am quite fine, dear. I will tend to him, you help the doctor.” The old woman said simply, starting to work at stripping the armor off the limp, exhausted soldier. A turian came over with a large syringe full of a purplish liquid, and the gentle woman added, “You are more useful for what he needs, I suspect.”

She didn’t like leaving her to handle it all, even as she knew she wouldn’t be any real help aside from using her Semblance to rip armor off wounded patients. Which threw ‘keeping what she was a secret’ into all kinds of disarray for not much gain, even if the selfishness of that thought irked her. Deceit, even of the sensible varieties, never came easy to her because of her nature, but she was used to keeping her Semblance hidden.

Even if that had been for a wholly different, arguably more selfish reason, it still came in handy here.

“Doctor, what can I-”

“Need dispersal mechanism for airborne cure.” The Salarian rattled off, leaning over an unconscious Batarian on the table in front of him. The four-eyed alien groaned and writhed, but mordin ignored the motions and pressed a hand against his chest, pulling a long needle out of its arm and tossing it into a bin. “Arrived too late for Batarian cure strain. Will not make it. Done all that I can.”

“Are you okay…?”

“No. But have to be. Need to work. Someone else could get it wrong. Now then, we have work to do.” The alien rounded on her suddenly, arm up and glowing as he projected a map of the slums. A long Salarian finger pointed far and away from where they were and he explained. “The air filtration system. From there, the cure can be disseminated to the entire station.”

“That would save everyone, yes. Treat the entire slum all at once, and save so many lives.” Pyrrha nodded, waiting for the request she already knew was coming. The way he was looking at her, with a small grimace, told her what he would want.

“Will you go?” He asked simply, rushing into an explanation before she could answer, “I have to stay here. Treat wounded, stabilize infected, prevent worse casualties. Am also lacking shield unit. And need Penny for security. You would be alone.”

“I’ll go, Doctor.” Penny would understand needing to stay behind, and she didn’t have a concern to that end. Smiling she tried to reassure them both, “I can do this, Mordin. You can trust me to see it done.”

Duty demanded she try at least, and there was no Maiden to get in her way this time. Still, when mordin handed her the heavy metal cylinder and she pulled the strap around her shoulders, she felt anxious. But with a sigh, she rolled her shoulders and turned away from the already busily working doctor to head on her way. Her own anxieties didn’t matter, after all.

A Huntress had a duty to help people, whenever asked to.

XxX----XxX----XxX

Knightwolf :

Beyond these two, Ii’m unsure I want any Remnant folks showing up. Further, even if I do, I want ones these two have relationships with. Apologies.

Prime Cronos :

Oi! No booli robot loli. Also, Pyrrha is already a bit more conniving and secret-keeping than normal. She is changing, though she’ll never change if you know what I mean.

Angry Santo :

Darkness has thus far been my favorite character to write.

Omega Ultima : 

Generally speaking, ‘loli’ refers to petite characters with small proportions and cute behaviors. So Penny would be a loli, especially since age tends to not matter. I was joking about not shipping her. I ship her myself, with Ruby specifically.

Helljumper :

*writes that down*


	11. Chapter 11

XxX----XxX----XxX

Official Supporters: 

Grand Priestess, Luna Haile. 

High Priests, Alvelvnor, Gage. 

Priests, The Impossible Muffin, Xager the Chaos King. 

Adeptus, Private Wilger

Ze Nope Rope, Kaiser Snek, Snekiest Snek

Acolytes, DigiDemonLord, Stonecold

Initiates, Greg Gibson, Espa Cole

If you want to be on the Supporter list, PM one of us for details or join our private server for details. Hope you enjoy reading my stories, please leave me a comment to let me know if you did, or where I can improve. Link here, where able to be seen : https://discord.gg/2UZncAm

Second link here, remove spaces and it SHOULD work : D iscord . gg (slash) kfhkfUb

I have a kofi account now, too, under this name for those interested.

Beta : 

XxX----XxX----XxX

“Three humans, military lookin’ outfit. Narius cleared ‘em, hold fire.” One of the Turian guards, if they could be called that with their shoddy equipment and near complete lack of any sort of armor, called out when they stepped into the light. Standing atop a shoddy barricade, he waved her through a door on her right and added a parting, “Narius called over, you’re clear. Make sure you got ammo and meds, we got a stock in the room there.”

“Thank you-”

“And check your fire.” The Turian grunted snappishly, a fact Shepard was quick to forgive given the situation. “Suns are policing the streets, trying to help civilians out of harm’s way and prevent the Plague spreading.”

“And how are they doing that, exactly?” She asked, resting a hand on her Predator comfortably and giving the man a look. 

“Burning the bodies, sealing up buildings full of loot so looters don’t get at ‘em, helping the sick that can be helped to Doc Solus.” The Turian shrugged then and kicked a seat she couldn’t see around before plopping into it and sighing tiredly. “One that can’t be helped, well… Bullets are faster than the plague is, and we don’t want it spreading because they wandered off in a daze.”

“Sounds pretty fucked out there, yeah. Seen kinda similar before myself, but… Yeah, I got it.” She nodded, taking a deep breath and sighing, turning a gaze on Zaeed leaning against the wall by the way they'd come in. the man sighed and rolled his eyes, already knowing why she was staring at him even before she spoke the word, “So don’t shoot the Suns, at least unless they shoot at us first. Got it.”

“Channels with ‘em are kinda fucked too. Lines are down, the Suns pressed for volunteers to bolster their numbers, and with the ‘Pack running mad...” The guard nodded, leaning over and drawing a small, old looking walkie-talkie from behind the barricade and pitching it to her. “That is dialed into the channel they’re all using out there, has an Omni link for you to run your line through.”

“Thanks, it’ll come in handy, I’m sure.” Linking the lines was as easy as latching it to her hip and running a scan for nearby networks, then having her communication line link to it automatically. For safety, she ran a passive scan and then pinged EDI, to make certain it was secure. “Sure you don’t mind us stocking up? I wouldn’t want you to run any risks if they come this way…”

“Ammo’s the Blue Suns’ stuff, not ours.” The Turian waved her off, reclining and flicking open an Omni-Tool display. “Mostly we pop shots at civvies with crummy little pistols, shoddy Predators and Shurikens and the like, to keep ‘em on the other side of the border or in their homes. Nothing big enough to need as much stock as we got, and the Suns won’t know any better.”

“Stealin’ anything from the Blue Suns tastes sweeter than any kind of pie this side of the grave.” Zaeed grunted, already past her and through the door. She could hear him rifling through things and rolled her eyes when he shouted back, “I’m stealin’ all their damn grenades!”

“Thanks for your help, we’re going to get on our way.” the Turian only nodded, clearly tired and just as clearly more than done with their conversation, distracted instead with whatever he was reading on his Scroll. Turning, she gave a jerk of her head and grunted, “Let’s go, Miranda. And be ready to toss up a barrier-bubble if we need it, even if we can’t shoot out of it I want to be able to get to cover.”

“I can maintain a barrier that lets you shoot out.” She assured her, following the woman past Zaeed and towards a sealed door with two more Turians guarding it. 

One swiped a card over the door and it hummed, sliding open with a dull pneumatic hiss and chime. Inside was a set of stairs leading down into gloom and, distantly, a dull and ruddy orange color. Like fire or emergency lights like the station seemed to have, dull and orange and clearly made for different eyes than Humans. Humans thrived under a more red light than orange, but then, the station had existed for longer that Humanity had been space faring.

“Zaeed front, Miranda take the middle, barriers ready on you two.” She ordered, lifting her Predator and sliding behind them fluidly and naturally, the way she’d always been trained to. “I have the rear and the range. Copy?”

“Clear copy.” The woman grunted simply, sliding as naturally into military decorum as Shepard had. Together, their gazes landed on the mercenary between them and the man sighed.

“Yeah, I got the goddamn front.” The man grunted, lacking any such military decorum as he strolled in and down the steps, Avenger hanging across his chest comfortably. “Try not to fall too far behind, ladies.”

Together, they proceeded down into the gloom and, soon enough, the acrid smell of smoke, death and burning flesh. Together, they came out on a wide open courtyard, piles of bodies in old planters in the center burning while blue-armored men and women of several species watched. They had their backs to them and she saw Zaeed tense, Avenger half rising on some distant, compulsive instinct.

An instinct she wouldn’t let him act on. 

“Blue!” She called, the three mercenaries spinning on their heels and snapping their own mish mash of rifles up, still and level on them as the two lither Humans spread out away from the sturdier Turian. Raised her hand, she stepped forward and nodded, “Blue. We’re blue, cleared to come in.”

“Three Humans, black armor and red hair, one looking like a dancer, and a guy with more scar than face.” The Turian rumbled in a deep, warbling voice as its rifle came down. With a wave of his hand, the other two did the same, and one turned and walked towards the way out of the little courtyard on the opposite side stiffly. “Sorry about the guns, you startled us. And with how everything is, well… things are Tense.”

“Yeah, I get that.” She nodded, watching the Human kneel beside a distant Batarian and reach out for him, only to have the alien flail and shout at her. “What’s up with him?”

“Ah, yeah, him.” The Turian sighed, turning and nodding at the Human who, in spite of the Batarian’s resistance, kept trying to get a hand on the alien. Shaking his head, the Turian shrugged, “Our job is to get the sick who can be treated to Mordin. Thing is, this racist fuck thinks since we’ve got Humans on our side, we just want to kill him.”

“I’d think you could just shoot him if you did.” Miranda commented, sarcastic and sardonic as she ever was. Not something she enjoyed about the woman, but then, she was Cerberus…

“Just knock him out then, if he already sees you as wanting to hurt him.” Shepard shrugged, rolling her eyes when the Turian just stared at her and didn’t respond. Instead of arguing, she simply walked by, striding towards the Human and the Batarian without a care in the world. Gently, she tugged the Human away by the arm and knelt, smiling, “Hey, so, uh, I hear you aren’t being very cooperative with the nice boys in blue trying to take care of you. That right?”

“You Humans did this.” The alien wheezed weakly, sweating far more than any Batarian had any right to and foggy in all four of his beady eyes. “Why would I-”

She didn’t give him the chance to finish, fist slamming into his jaw and snapping his head to the side. As he sagged, she rose and gave the Blue Suns watching her a beaming smile. “There, no more struggling. Get him patched up, will you? We have to get going, but we’ll hope to see you there.”

“Well, Commander, gotta say it.” Zaeed grunted as he slid by to take point again, Avenger still hanging lazily across his armored chest. “That was pretty goddamn intense, even for me.”

“Lock it down, and take formation like before.” The woman grunted simply, waiting until the two Humans moved ahead of her before sighing and rolling her shoulders. Following them, she grunted a simple aside, “Zaeed, double time alert march. We can’t risk losing Mordin to this mess.”

Stacked up in a column, they continued on their way through the slums, passing red-locked doors, boarded windows and piles of acrid smelling, smoldering bodies. They passed more Suns too, tired, some bleeding from bandaged wounds and others leaned against walls and far too still for anyone’s comfort. Some turned to her as she passed them, offering nods of simultaneous greetings and farewell before turning back to tending to their own business, whatever it might be.

All the while, it was dead silent, without anything more than the crackling of fires, distant gunshots, and the occasional patter of hidden, harmless feet inside locked buildings for company.

When they reached the clinic, they knew they had as much for the sparking, intermittently glowing sign designating it on the wall above the clinic as for the entrenchments outside. Barricades had been erected to either side of the clinic’s front entrance, made up of scattered furniture as much as sandbags and metal barricades. Gates large enough for a single Krogan to squeeze through had been set directly across from each other, to allow passage through from one side of the winding slum street to the other, with two Human guards in rattier looking Blue Suns armor standing to either side. 

“Commander Shepard?” One asked as they approached, the other guard nervously checking her shoddy looking Vindicator as he stepped forward. Beaming a disarming smile for the young man, she slid past her two teammates and nodded, the man murmuring a surprised, “By the Spirits it is you…”

“Isn’t that a Turian thing?” Miranda asked quietly, echoing Shepard’s own surprise even if the Commander hadn’t wanted the question broached. 

“My parents died when I was little. ‘Round five or so, I think, but it was a long time ago so I forget sometimes.” The man shrugged, and then gestured at the woman behind and to the side of him. “Turian by the name of Vanius Acantius adopted us when the Suns found out. So… Yeah.”

“Neat.” She smiled, cocking her head to the side, “How do you know it’s the real me, though?”

“H-He has a poster of you on his wall, from your N7 photoshoot back before you became a Spectre. He’d know you if he saw you.” The woman offered, earning a low, embarrassed groan from the young man as he stepped aside and the young woman chuckled, waving her in. “Go on in, Commander. I’m sure you’re, uh, you know. Busy. Places to be.”

With a polite nod, and a grimace at just how young these literal guards were, she stepped by and made her way inside.

“Hello there!” A small girl dressed in green and grey crowed as soon as they stepped through the doorn, standing on the other side of a security partition and waving excitedly. Beaming a smile as they approached, she spoke quickly and exstatically, “I’m Penny Polendina, I run security. Which of you are dying, so I can warn the doctor?”

“Uh…” Shepard blinked, and then returned the smile brightly and warmly. Leaning down to more accurately get on the young girl’s level, she smiled and spoke softly, trying to ease the girl into trusting her. “None of us, actually. We’re here to ask Doctor Solus for help with something else. Can you tell him Commander Shepard is here to speak to him, please?”

“Did you say… Shepard?” The girl asked, head slowly cocking to the side when Shepard nodded. The girl blinked slowly, then, and nodded, waving a hand towards the door, “Go on in. He ought to be in room three. You should be able to find him readily enough.”

Giving the odd girl a last smile, the commander turned and pushed through the door, putting thoughts of her aside and turning to ask an orderly, “Where is room three, if you don’t mind?”

The tired old woman paused in her work just long enough to turn and point at a hallway across from the entrance, and Shepard smiled a thank you as she left. As she walked, she let her eyes rove the rundown, exhausted clinic. Wounded mercenaries and civilians both lined the benches, cradling injuries or sleeping, and she could see distant bodies stacked behind a row of crates, awaiting disposal. Many were hacking loudly, too, no doubt sick with the plague and waiting on their turn for a cure, judging from the hopeful, impatient glances they gave the waiting staff whenever they skirted by them. 

“Well ain’t this a shit hole…” She turned a scowl on Zaeed and he shrugged, rolling his eyes and grunting, “What? S’a goddamn shit hole, and everyone here knows it.”

“That they have managed even this much in the grips of a plague, with no state apparatus to aid them, and left completely to their own devices is itself enough to earn respect.” Shepard’s eyebrows rose at Miranda, of all people, praising aliens and the woman grimaced. Hushed for obvious fears and stepping closer to the former Spectre, the woman grumbled, “Cerberus prioritizes Human achievement, Commander. We don’t simply ignore the achievements of the other races.”

“Can’t steal ‘em if you ignore ‘em, so yeah.” She heard Miranda huff and raised a hand, demanding silence as they rounded a corner and entered a treatment room that had been converted somewhat into a lab as well.

The room was cramped, even as wide as it was, with two gurneys sporting corpses to one side and a wall packed with terminals to the other. In the middle of the room was a large analyzer of sorts, if she had to guess. Whoever had built it, she could tell, had scrabbled it together around a much more high end Salarian analyzer. On closer inspection, though, she saw that most of the machine seemed to not be doing anything, instead more… Hiding the Salarian component inside it in a way even her trained eyes very nearly missed.

Something she filed away for later, whether or not it would ever actually be useful or not, and then made herself move on from in spite of her inherent paranoia about hidden things. 

“Doctor Solus?” She asked after a moment, the Salarian turning from the suspect console to nod to her in greeting. “I’m Commander Shepard, Citadel Spectre and-”

“Not a Spectre anymore. Registered deceased on private Alliance registries.” The alien gave her a once over and turned, clasping his hands behind his waist and raising his ridged eyebrows in challenge and dismissal. Like someone who knew she knew that he knew what he was saying had merit and truth. “Not the ones they would keep falsified information on. Even for deep-cover operatives.”

“I-I don’t-”

“Also, here with Cerberus agent Miranda Lawson. Known quantity. Been absent from normal notice since shortly after your death. Zaeed Massani… Less so, but still known. Terminus exclusive for eleven years.” The Salarian smiled to show he didn’t mind her deceptions, whatever they were, and he went one, “Only want you to know where I stand.”

“Well, I see that Cerberus’ dossier on you wasn’t making anything up about your brilliance, doctor.” She smiled, impressed at his insightfulness and somewhat relieved that he was who Cerberus had sent her to collect. 

It of course made sense that cerberus wouldn’t give her recruitment dossiers on anyone that wasn’t fit for the job. But regardless, some validation helped her paranoia, to say the least. 

“Look forward to reading it.” He nodded, finally letting his smile slip and narrowing his eyes. Thinking, the alien folded his hands over his chest and raised his hand, tapping a ling finger against his chin in thought. “Commander Shepard working with Cerberus in the Terminus. Must have good reasons. But what? Plague too recent, too small scale. And Cerberus wouldn’t care, Humans immune to the Plague.”

“We’re investigating the disappearing Human colonies in the Terminus, Doctor.” Shepard prompted, offering him a small and charming smile when his eyes met hers. “We believe the Collectors to be involved, using some kind of… Organic weapon that inflicts paralysis. We need your help, Doctor.”

As if on cue, the clinic’s walls seemed to vibrate and the lights dimmed to a dull ruddy orange. Outside the room, she could hear the panicked murmuring of the sick, wounded and guards all.

“That was the air systems shutting down, Commander.” Miranda murmured. Whose benefit she was talking for, Shepard had no idea, since it was fairly obvious by the vents shutting down what the sound was. “We should take the good doctor and leave, Commander. Before the district suffocates, and us along with it.

“Ah.” That explained why she’d mentioned it, actually, and made Shepard sigh tiredly as well. Turning at the waist, she gave the woman the single most 'disapproving mother’ look she could manage and shook her head, “We’re not leaving the district to suffocate and die, Miranda. And I’m disappointed in you for suggesting it.”

“Heh.” Zaeed sniggered, sounding and looking for all the world like a petulant sibling as he murmured a quiet, “You’re in trouble.”

“I can fire you.” Miranda warned childishly, “It would be my pleasure to do so, as a matter of fact.”

“I hate you both…” Shepard groaned, “I regret everything about bringing both of you.”

“The air control unit is where I dispatched one of my guards with the airborne cure.” Mordin interjected, still smiling pleasantly all the while, “Miss Nikos is a capable enough combatant. Watched her fight a Krogan Biotic in melee personally in fact. Most impressive, especially for a Human. She can handle whatever is there.”

“Wait, she fought him one on one?” Shepard asked, genuinely stunned when the Salarian nodded. Turning to Miranda she asked, “You know anything about this, Lawson? A Human that can survive a firefight with a Krogan is-”

“It was melee, actually.” Mordin pitched in, smiling pleasantly when, wide eyed and gaping like a fish, the woman turned to look at him again. “Fist to fist. I personally counted four separate, Biotic strikes that she received. Quite an interesting specimen, Nikos is. I have a video if you would like to see it. While we wait on the cure to be dispersed and the air system to be reinstated, I mean.”

“And when they are?”

“I will accompany you, and leave the clinic in the hands of my trusted colleagues.” The Salarian answered with a small, comforting smile. “But if you will permit it, I would like to suggest a couple of… Additions.”

XxX----XxX----XxX

“Die!” The Vorcha snarled, leaping at her for all the world like a feral, mad Grimm, arms spread and razor claws aiming for her throat.

They never met it, though, even if her Aura would have made sure it wouldn’t matter. Instead, she dropped her shoulder and crouched, nearly kneeling and then catapulting forward into the creature. It snarled in pain and fury, and she heard bones crack as it was hurled away to slam into the railing at the edge of the environmental control room. She paid it enough mind to see it slump, dead or unconscious, before she moved on to the next.

This one was somewhat smarter, if the term applied here, and didn’t leap into the air like a mad beast. Instead, it dove for her hips, aiming to tackle her down like a sports player. That proved just as failing a strategy, though, the woman stepping to the side and spinning on a heel the same way the alien was flying, hurling her shield into the back of its head when it landed and recalling it smoothly back to her arm.

Just in time to catch a rocket on its smooth surface, the force pitching her back into a pillar that smarted but otherwise doing her no harm. Winded but easily recovering, she let her spear snap out to the side and shift, leveling her rifle on the offending alien and firing twice. The first round punched into the creature’s rocket launcher, ripping off a hunk of it and leaving it a sparking and useless mess. The second puncture its shoulder and sent it reeling, wounded but alive, into cover before it shrieked and ran for its life.

In the quiet that followed, she took a deep breath and sighed, returning her weapons to her back and drawing out the sturdy little cure cylinder.

“Please be automatic… Please be automatic…” The little thing slid perfectly into an input slot on the front, spinning and clicking into place like it had been designed that way. “Which, knowing Doctor Solus, it very likely is.”

After a few seconds, the terminal lit up and a bright green holographic button flickered to life over the top of the cylinder. Gingerly, and sending a silent prayer to the Dark Brother that she was doing this right and wishing she’d asked for instructions, she pressed the button. Around her, lights blared to life and the great turbines began to turn, delivering the needed air - and the cure with it - to those throughout the district.

Pleased, she let out a breath and turned, picking her way around unconscious Vorcha and making a note to send the Blue Suns this way when she got to the clinic. The cure was dispersed, and that couldn’t be changed, but there was no stopping the Vorcha turning the air off again. 

For now, though, she was content to walk back and pray not to run into more wayward ‘Pack members.

The walk itself was quiet enough, those Vorcha left on the streets scattering when they saw her or easily beaten down for the second time around. The Krogan glared weakly, but luckily for her the Cure hadn’t sunk in wholly yet, and so that was all they could do. 

“Nikos.” A Suns soldiers grunted when she reached their border again, or near enough now they were pushing the weakened Blood Pack back thanks to her breaking through their lines. With the Turian were a dozen other fresh looking soldiers, but they stopped for her and he asked, “I take it the fans comin’ back on was you?”

“It was, yes.” She nodded, stepping aside and nodding back the way she had come. The Turian’s visored eyes followed her gaze and, quietly, she went on, “The way is clear, aside from sick Krogan and frightened Vorcha. You can move to secure it without a problem, and I wish you well in doing so.”

“Thanks.” The Turian jerked his head in a silent order and his men moved ahead, headed towards the environmental control unit. “The little tater tot was askin’ us to send you her way when we left Mordin’s.”

“She was?” Pyrrha blinked, confused, “Why? Do you know?”

“Nah, I didn’t ask and she didn’t say. Figured it might be private, sorry, Nikos.” The Turian shook its head and turned, waving a hand for his men to move ahead down the street of the slum. Raising his voice, he barked, “Take back what the ‘Pack stole, resecure the environmental control sector, and get the Blood Pack out of our territory!”

“Good luck.” She said, offering a farewell nod, “I should be going, to see what my friends needs of me.”

“She said to hurry, too.” The Turian offered, adding a final, “A bunch of soldiers were there earlier, and left with Doctor Solus. That probably has something to do with it.”

It wouldn’t take long to get to the clinic now she knew, with the way clear of hindrances and secured by wandering Blue Suns patrols. Checkpoints had been set up atop similar barricades as what had defended the clinic, but no one stopped her. Whether because they were checking for any traces of left over disease and didn’t need to check a Human or because they knew her and weren’t about to slow her, she couldn’t be sure.

No sooner than she had stepped through the rear entrance did she feel a dense, small missile slam into her midsection with a cry of, “Friend Pyrrha! You are back and well. I am happy to see you again.”

“Of course I am well, and I am glad to see you are as well.” She chuckled, returning the automaton girl’s hug and smiling as she stepped away and beamed up at her. Walking further into the clinic, she asked warily, “Where did Mordin go, Penny? I was told soldiers came and took him away. Is Aria up to something untoward?”

“Oh no!” Penny assured her brightly, “If she had been, then I would have beaten those soldiers into the ground. No one hurts my friends. Or your friends, because your friends are my friends too.”

“Then what…?”

“Commander Shepard came and asked for his help, and as the clinic is running well enough now and the plague cured, he agreed to help her.” The girl answered simply, giving Pyrrha a knowing look when wide, green eyes turned on her. Smiling still, the girl bounced excitedly on her heels, “Oh, I knew you would be excited! They escorted him to their ship, and said they would wait before moving to recruit their next target when we joined them.”

“Such good luck…”

“We do have a god to thank for that, I believe.” Penny smiled, looking up at the taller woman and adding, “But we should hurry. I don’t want to keep them waiting.”

Neither did the Mistralian Huntress and so, together and knowing that the clinic was safe now, they made their way out the front door and on their way. There was little time to dally, after all, though Pyrrha was already concerned with how to get in touch with Legion. The sad irony was that he had left barely a month past and now she had what he was looking for… Which meant that she needed to protect Shepard for him, then, and serve as a bridge when they finally did meet.

She had to pay him back, after all.

XxX----XxX----XxX

Everyone wish a big happy birthday to Espa, he’s the commissioner for this story and a Supporter besides.

XxX----XxX----XxX

Arch Angel 319 :

Glad to have it on offer for you!

Amerdism :

Excluding romance stories, I don’t set pairings in stone. I find it constricting to do that, and don’t feel it particularly makes for good stories when the romance would be a subplot instead of a main plot. It could be interesting, though, so while I won’t confirm it I won’t discount it either.

The Prime Cronos :

I agree completely. What people often forget is how plastic and utilitarian our moralities truly are.

That One Random Dude :

Why? This Shepard is an infiltrator type. A spy. Ninety percent of spy-work is piecing together what random people say to you, and employing a bit of charm to get more if need be. All she did was pause to chat up a guard and get information out of him.

Omega Ultima :

Canon doesn’t seem to imply Aura can help against illnesses, but it also doesn’t state it does. I’ll read on it and think about it.

Steel Rain 66 :

Glad you’re enjoying it!

The Last Battalion :

Spoiler alert, probably not well.


	12. Chapter 12

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Beta : 

XxX----XxX----XxX

“Ah, Shepard. Finally, I get to see the genuine article with my own eyes.” The blue-skinned Asari commented with a smile as she entered the private booth, Miranda just behind her. The second smile was just as false as the first when the Asari crime lord registered the woman's presence and attire, all diplomacy at the barest level. “I was starting to get worried you’d gotten lost somewhere along the way.”

“No, I just felt some urgency in saving the good doctor, since there was a plague going on. You understand.” Shepard gave her the same smile and, without waiting for an invitation, took a seat on the couch beside the door. Stretching an arm back along the back of the couch and reclining comfortably, she kept her smile steady and diplomatic, though her smile waned somewhat when Miranda didn’t take the perhaps too subtly offered seat beside her, thus undermining the confident and relaxed aura she was trying to exude. “Sorry I didn’t come see you first, though. I hope you weren’t offended.”

“Offended?” She raised a spined brow and smiled that same fake smile again, showing the barest hint of teeth as a threat, “Why would I be offended, Commander?”

“Because I went into a district in your station without coming to see you first.” Better to confront the issue on her own time rather than let Aria snake her way into it. Safer by far, to be sure. “I figured it might offend you, but as I said-”

“Yes, yes, you were in a rush to save the goody two shoes doctor from his clinic. I heard you the first time.” The Asari’s scowl told the commander that her play had worked, ruining whatever game of leverage the self-made monarch had aimed for. A small victory for the Commander, then. “And the answer to your question? Mildly.”

“Oh?” As expected, but she smiled and blinked owlishly in spite of that. “Well, I’m sorry I offended you.”

“You are?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be sorry? It wasn’t intended.” She nodded, letting the Asari’s eyes rove over her and shifting uncomfortably under the appraisal. 

A liar would always try to sit perfectly still, but she knew better than that. Anyone would squirm under someone’s appraisal, and those who didn’t were putting on airs for one reason or another. And in this game, the most likely reason would be that Shepard was lying, and meant offense. And giving a tell like that, regardless of if Aria already suspected it or not, or even meant to believe it and remember it going forward, could sink her plans. And given the scale that this game would, or could, play into in the future such a loss wasn’t something she was very willing to stomach.

“I mean it, Aria.” She said quietly, not moving from where she sat on the couch but nodding her head regardless. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I only wanted to guarantee that I managed to get Solus’ aid. If you knew how important my mission was, you’d approve.”

“Would I now?” The Asari smiled, and Shepard already knew she’d misstepped when she let her head recline on her couch. “Then maybe, just maybe, you ought to tell me what it is you’re doing. And maybe, just maybe, it’ll be worth it. Like you said.”

“Commander-”

“Miranda, go outside and wait for our other additions.” She ordered simply, giving the woman a hard look when she didn’t immediately move. “Make sure they are armed and ready for whatever the next leg of our operations here entails.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” She finally nodded, turning on her heel and taking her ordered leave.

“Interesting, you working with Cerberus.” Aria pointed out, turning her head to watch the woman make her way to, and through, the main entryway. Turning back to give the woman a look, a spined brow rose, “Especially after everything you uncovered back in the day. What on this side of the afterlife could possibly have motivated you to work with them of all people?”

“They… Saved my life, a while ago, when an op went south on me.” The woman had a full body-scan of her, she knew, and if she compared it to older biometrics then she’d see the cybernetic replacements that she’d needed in her, er, repairs. “I met with the Illusive Man himself and he not only assured me those cells were break-aways, but provided records to prove it. And offered his unconditional funding and support if I stop the disappearances of Human colonies throughout the Terminus.”

“I’ve heard about that particular problem.” Aria nodded, “Fitting that Cerberus would step in since the Citadel and the Alliance don’t seem to want to.”

“Or can’t, for whatever reasons, good or bad, that keep them from doing anything.” The Citadel, she knew, was bound by treaties not to intervene. Add the diplomatic pressure of that being applied to the Alliance since they held a seat now and it made sense. “I don’t know and don’t care. I’ve been authorized to work with them to deal with this by the people that matter.”

“Which are?”

“Classified.” She shrugged, smiling apologetically at the scowl she received. “Technically, I wasn’t even allowed to confirm I’m working with Cerberus. Or that I’m alive, for that matter, though with the profile of what this job will entail I suspect that won’t be on the table for long, now.”

“I would expect not.” The Asari agreed, giving her a once over and smiling knowingly. “But I suppose the injuries you referred to explain the extensive cybernetics my body-scan from before found. Why, it almost seems you were rebuilt from the ground up.”

“Nothing that extensive, don’t worry about that.” She lied, smiling through her teeth as she did and adding a short, harsh laugh for effect. “Cybernetics were needed to help accommodate some of my injuries and their complications, though. Extensively, like you said, but I’m still Duman deep down.”

“Mhm.” The Asari seemed convinced enough, or simply didn’t care, and shrugged with her response to show it. “Any clues on who is making your colonies disappear, then? I would imagine so, if you are willing to work with Cerberus and they are willing to give you free rein with who knows what else. Not to mention your ship that looks like the Normandy, but is clearly larger…”

“The Collectors are the ones taking the colonies.” She answered, hoping the Asari would abandon other, more troublesome lines of questioning. Or take the hint that Shepard wouldn’t be answering them, at least. “We have witnesses, biological evidence, and a few other things I’m not allowed to disclose. I will say, though, that the reason I rushed to save Solus and make sure he survived is because they employ some sort of… Biological stun weapon.”

“Stun weapon?”

“Insectoid, we believe.” She answered, “And through some mechanism, they disable a person’s ability to move. How exactly, we don’t know. But our witness saw them and says they were bugs. They touch you and suddenly, you can’t move.”

“And you’re stuck until they take you to the goddess knows where… For them to do goddess knows what to you.” At her nod, even the Asari seemed… Not quite vindictive as most would be, but perturbed at least. Which was probably the best she could hope for from a likely centuries old crime lord. “Fine, fine, I forgive you for rushing off without coming to see me. Solus’ brilliance is probably a needed factor in stopping that.”

“Crucially.” She answered seriously, “Without him, we probably wouldn’t be able to develop a countermeasure. And without that, fighting the Collectors would be suicide.”

“Yeah, I bet.” She nodded, resting her chin on a palm and her elbow on the top of the couch. With a sigh, she nodded again and waved a hand over her shoulder, “I had a sky-car held aside and ordered the gangs to hold on attacking Archangel in earnest until they had the manpower to win. Go now, I’ll order them to finish this nonsense, and you can break them and escape.”

“You have that kind of power?”

“Shepard, listen, I know you’re too much of a girl scout to know, but…” Aria leaned forward and smiled, all teeth and frantic energy. “The queen always gets what she wants, or heads roll. They’ll do as I say because they know I’ll kill them all if they don’t.”

“I see…” She stood then and nodded to the woman, half turning and adding, “Then I better get going. Before something happens to-”

“And Shepard?” Aria interrupted, standing herself and stalking across the little room they were in until the soldier was within reach. Gently, and without a care in the world for onlookers or Shepard’s consent, she ran a hand down the side of Jane’s face and smiled. “So pretty, especially for a soldier. And so soft, too. Would be such a shame…”

“What would be a shame?” She asked, disliking the scaled touch on her cheek but neither flinching or pulling away.

“You insulting my intelligence and assets ever again, and making an enemy out of me.” She answered, hand sliding up to run fingers through her hair and then settle a palm on her shoulder. Still smiling, the woman finished with a simple, “Because you do it again, and I’ll space you myself. And this time, even Cerberus won’t be able to find you.”

That sent a chill she couldn’t quite hide, flinching now and blinking at the Asari’s words. The woman only smiled, though, and turned to return to her seat.

“If you understand, then you can go. Now.” The Asari’s bright, pale eyes met hers over her shoulder and the woman cocked a hip, smiling confidently and exuding authority. “You play the game well, Commander. But I’ve known people like you for centuries. And you lost this round. Well played, though.”

And like that, she could feel the game ending, and with her the loser for a rare time in her life. How she reacted, she was sure, would decide their relationship going forward. And whether they had one.

“I guess you called my bluff well enough, yeah.” She nodded, knowing when she was beaten and being called out for it. “You still understand I won’t volunteer information either way, though, I’m sure.”

“I do.”

“Then have a good day, Aria. And… Good game.” Shepard nodded, turning and stepping out of the little room before Aria’s laughter really registered. Taking in and letting out a deep breath, the commander shook her head and murmured, “Good game alright…”

She wasn’t angry, though. Not even remotely. No, she relished meeting someone that thought and planned the way she did, and played the game so well. It would be fun playing the game with Aria, and a welcome distraction while she dealt with the Collectors, even if the alien woman was no less dangerous than the Collectors were.

“Did it go to plan then, Commander?” Miranda asked when she joined her, standing by the sky-cars and waiting on her commander and the rest of their unit. Smiling prettily, and pettily Shepard could tell, the woman added, “Seeing as you elected to boot me from the room, I imagine you handled Aria quite well without me, after all.”

Shepard could only sigh her suffering at the question, and then soundly, and no doubt tellingly, ignore it entirely.

XxX----XxX----XxX

It didn’t take long for the two Huntresses to find their way out of the slums and back to Afterlife proper, at the bridge between the poor and wealthy districts, as incredibly indistinct as that delineation tended to actually be. And regardless of her lack of license or authority to grant the title, she considered them both fully fledged since they had fairly fully died in the line of duty. Deifically aligned and allotted resurrections notwithstanding, of course. It took almost as long to push their way through the meandering crown trying to get back into the slums, though.

As though they could unloot their homes by rushing back… Still, she understood the sentiment, even as she knew how pointless the effort was. And how frustrating it was to her own efforts to go the opposite direction, through the rough traffic.

Still, closer to two hours after they left than one, she could feel the uncomfortably familiar heartbeat thrum of Afterlife. And the murmur of the bickering crowd and guards as the former tried to heckle their way in, and the latter tried to do their jobs. A couple who recognized her for her armor and bright, red ponytail raised hands in greetings, and the crowd followed suit for just long enough to realize she wasn’t their ticket into the club. And not a moment beyond that, which was… Painfully typical, but not something she was about to express anything but apathy towards.

“There she is, Friend Pyrrha!” Penny said suddenly, grabbing her hand and tugging her along like a child, towards the parked sky-cars that the patrons - wannabe or otherwise - had used to get here. “That is Commander Shepard and a woman that was with her from before.”

The former was… Well, essentially a carbon copy of the pictures Legion had shown her, and those she’d seen online, albeit somehow paler and with odd, almost luminescent scars around the edges of her face. Sleek, almost wiry but with enough muscle - and armor, of course - to not be quite wiry, but still less stocky or build than she was. More akin to Penny in build, really, now that she got a good look at the woman, albeit with longer legs and shorter, darker red hair. A stocky, long weapon rested on her back and, from Legion’s own cache of weapons, she recognized it as a Mantis model. The orange and grey pistol, though, she recognized from Mordin as a Carnifex, his favored weapon due to the Krogan presence around his clinic.

Because one needed something to deal with heavily armored, thick Krogan hide, and Mordin didn’t exactly have an Aura or Huntress training to let him keep up with them.

The other woman was both undeniably beautiful and undeniably less armed and armored, but stood still with a kind of confidence that itself urged caution from the Mistralian. Long raven hair, and a body built like a mix of Blake and Yang’s, slipped into a tight white catsuit and, again like the duo, visibly rippling with lithe muscle and confidence in equal measure, but only carrying a couple small weapons. A Predator for one, she could tell, and something equally small on the other hip. 

“That one’s a Biotic...” She murmured, certain after her curious study of it after her… Mild defeat against the Krogan. 

Still, not an enemy, she reminded herself she was half-heartedly resisting Penny’s tugs, like a parent would a child. The redhead, Shepard she was certain, saw them in the corner of her vision and turned, pushing off the sky-car she’d been leaned against. Smiling politely, she opened her mouth to say hello, but lost that race handedly. 

“Salutations, New Friend Shepard!” The little android cheered before Pyrrha could say anything, stopping next to the taller woman and beaming a smile. Offhandedly, as though she’d forgotten until that moment, she added a small, polite, “Hello, Miranda. How are you two doing?”

“Better now you’re here.” The more armored of the duo said with a wide smile, reaching out with a hand to ruffle the smaller woman’s hair and turning a look on Pyrrha while Penny blushed and grinned, enjoying the simple affection. With that same smile, she asked, “And you must be Pyrrha Nikos. No?”

“In the flesh and iron, yes.” She answered, resting a hand on her hip and watching Penny straighten as the woman stepped back, returning to leaning against the sky-car comfortably. “And you’re Commander Shepard. Savior of the CItadel and all that. Yes?”

“The very same, in the flesh and willing to sign autographs if you ask me cutely enough.” The woman nodded with a smile, gesturing with a hand at Miranda across from her. “This is Specialist Miranda Lawson, my… Contact, I guess that’d have to be the word for it, with Cerberus.”

“Liaison.” The woman corrected, offering a hand that Pyrrha shook and giving the android a small nod. “What do you know of Cerberus, Miss Nikos?”

“Not enough to have a real opinion, unfortunately.” She shrugged, answering honestly and giving Penny a questioning look to ask if she did. When the girl only shrugged in the negative, the Mistralian turned back to her. “Enlighten us, if you don’t mind terribly. And we have the time, of course.”

“Of course!” The woman smiled, something glinting in her eyes that put Pyrrha off even before she started actually speaking. “Cerberus is, simply put, an organization dedicated to the preservation and advancement of Humanity in every way. Technologically, politically, economically, whatever the case.”

“And the other races?” She asked, laying a hand on Penny’s shoulder to keep her still while the young synthetic watched the crowd behind them and listened to their conversation. “What of, say, the Turians? Salarians?”

“We-”

“If you aren’t a Human, they don’t care to help you unless you have something on offer.” Shepard answered, giving the raven-haired woman a look and frowning. “They have a one track, completely racist mind.”

“One, the term would be speciesist, Commander.” Miranda offered haughtily, arms folded and an unamused, cocky smile spreading over her too-perfect lips. “Two, you speak as though favoring your own race and culture over a literally alien one is odd. Or something you can’t understand.”

“Understanding is one thing.” Shepard answered dryly, “Just like I understand how disgusting your blatant speciesism is.”

“Spoken like someone that fails to understand that all races are the same in that respect.” Miranda commented, sounding tired and bored of the topic already, but seemingly motivated to argue the point regardless. “Every species has its own government, after all. And every species’ government cares about as much for those not of their own species as Cerberus does. Criticize if you like, but we are the norm, not the exception.”

“Then the world is broken and needs to be fixed, if people like Cerberus represent the normal trend of policy making. And I’m not about-” Green eyes snapped to Pyrrha’s own, suddenly, and the woman frowned. For a moment, she was silent, mouth gaping and unsure. Then it clicked closed and the woman sighed, “And I’m not about to have an ideological debate in front of two people I want to recruit. Souring them to an organization I’m working with? Not the brightest move.”

“Nor is biting the hand that feeds you.” Miranda pointed out coldly, a vicious sort of pitch to her voice that ate at the Mistralian’s ears like acid laced along each word. “Be that funding for your mission, food in your belly, or your pulse. All offered and accepted with a Cerberus brand right on the tin.”

“Are you done?” The more armored woman asked implacably, offering naught but a small, thin smile for the other woman. Miranda scowled, but didn’t respond, and Shepard added coldly, “Because we have a job to do, and arguing about your morality, or lack thereof, isn’t part of it. You want to bicker, you know where I sleep.”

The woman didn’t respond aside from a small huff and, a moment later, a smaller nod. Still, the commander waited and the two Huntresses with her, having watched the exchange curiously and watching now for the same reason. Both of them, she was sure in spite of Penny’s ever-present, beaming smile of pure, undiluted joy, gauging their new acquaintances. And their new acquaintances’ opinions on certain rather obtuse topics neither new well, as well as how they handled an argument.

Still, she couldn’t shake the strange suspicion she felt, nor could she place it. Something just felt off… Synthetic, in a way similar to something she couldn’t quite determine at the moment. But one that filled her with unease she had to push through, for the greater good of herself and those around her, Penny and Legion especially. To that end, she took a small breath to force herself to calm and stepped forward, partially between the woman but quite clearly stepping into their conversation.

“We’re going to be working together, I understand?” She asked, giving the black and red armored woman a look, one brow raised in question. “You mentioned wanting to recruit us, to some mission I presume.”

“If you agree?” She preambled, speaking cleanly and clearly, and looking between the three of them so she was sure they all knew she was referring to all of them. And not just speaking to Pyrrha herself, “Yes. We will. And in combat, or on actual operational field duties and not waiting at the sky-car, everyone will get along. But people on all sides of the fence are free and expected to speak their minds. Strength through diversity is a thing I believe in.”

“Then please, tell us what you need right now. Then, we can actually decide if we want to be with you. Fight with you.” Pyrrha asked gently, giving the two a look and a small, admittedly patronizing smile. She, of course, already knew she would go with Shepard if only to help Legion find them, and for what little the God of Darkness had revealed to her about the galaxy’s grim future. “What missions do you have that you need us for? And as importantly if not moreso, why do you want us?”

“The second question is simple enough.” Miranda was the one to answer, for once seeming to brim with some modicum of respect instead of derision and attitude. “It’s hard not to hear of the woman that can go toe to toe with a Krogan Battlemaster in melee for the average person. Rumors have even reached the Citadel itself, for as little believe of it.”

“Truly?”

“Word spreads fast and people like weird distractions.” Shepard confirmed for her, smiling at a joke she quickly explained, “Some online conspiracists have even suggested you and I are the same person. Even though I would… Probably die if a Krogan punched me, Biotic or otherwise.”

“So for an organization like Cerberus, you were an easy mark, though not one we were sure we wanted on such short notice.” Miranda continued, playing off the commander oddly easily now the ice had thawed between them. It was, of course, replaced by work, but still. It was interesting. “As for our mission…? Well, that one is a bit more complicated.”

“In the short term, we want to save a few million colonists and change from a race called the Collectors.” Shepard went on, “Long term? Well, we want to save the whole goddamn galaxy from giant, sentient death machines from a hundred billion or more years ago. Starting here, on Omega, with saving one trapped Turian that’s pissed off way too many gangs and mercs.”

“A Turian going by the name ‘Archangel’ has been trapped by the three so-called ‘great’ mercenary bands. His team is said to be dead, though we don’t know how, and so he is alone.” Miranda explained, “In short order, they intend to begin an assault so that he may join his cohorts in the grave. Our aim is to infiltrate them, sabotage them however we may, and aid the Turian before that happens.”

“Garrus is in trouble…?” She murmured, not missing the way the other redhead flinched, as though struck, but unable to process it for her momentary surprise. Blinking it away and shaking off her tremor of anxiety she set herself again and sighed. Even with their relative strangeness he had helped her and she owed him, and now… “If he’s in trouble, then we need to hurry. He’s not the most reserved of men, and I fear he will grow impatient with no hope of rescue.”

“Did you say…” The woman murmured, stepping close and into her guard, bending down and letting her head hang to the side oddly. Like some kind of doll, it’s strings not holding it right, but its eyes cold and demanding, red hair falling loose across her shoulders and face. “Garrus? Archangel is Garrus? As in Vakarian?”

“Yes.” She answered, “I did. Garrus Vakarian. I… Assumed you knew that?”

“Blue armor, likes long-rifles, kind of an ass?” She asked, head still hanging and eyes unblinking and… Glowing almost ethereally, like a demon had slid into her body, using it like a suit and speaking to her through it. 

“Yes.” She confirmed, stepping back only for the Commander to follow her in the same breath, lock-step with her to an eerie extent. “He helped Le- A friend of mine and I. Put us into contact with a woman named Liara T’Soni.”

“I see.” The woman hesitated a moment and then straightened suddenly, like the doll’s strings had been suddenly tugged taut and upright. Turning to Miranda, she grunted a simple, “Miranda, get in the sky-car. And get Jacob out here, with some ordinance. Satchels and program bypasses for the Sun mechs. You are to return to the ship and get Solus and the mercenary, and use the shuttle to get in position to blitz in when the mercs are broken, and evac Vakarian while I make sure the mercs don’t stop running.”

“I thought we wanted subtlety, Ma’am…”

“We did.” The woman nodded, smiling wide and toothily, like a mad predator ready and relishing a coming hunt. “But some dumb motherfucker decided they’d go after my crew. And that particular dumb motherfucker gets to see that Shep’s back, and she’s not gonna let anyone hurt her people.”

Pyrrha felt a shiver crawl up her spine at that, but couldn’t argue with anything the woman was saying. Instead, she only nodded and, when Miranda called over the sky-car, crawled in and settled in for a ride. And after that, a fight.

XxX----XxX----XxX

StuG :  
Thanks! The character selection is on Espa, the Supporter behind this, but I’m glad you enjoyed where I went with stuff.

*I'm glad that you like my choice StuG. I wanted to see something that hadn't been done before to my knowledge.* -Espacole

TheDoctor1998 :  
Honestly? I don’t. Had I known about the Dolt Interception Missile (DIM) before, I probably would have just ignored it going into this story. Now, I just have no option but to. 

Paragade Question (Guest) :  
To be decided, but probably more Paragade if you know what I mean.

OmegaUltima :  
The idea of a Krogan Hunter is… Intriguing, actually. Not for this, probably, but who knows where the writing world will lead me?

JapaneseOptics :  
Glad you are so intrigued! I want to touch on as many of these as I can, but dunno how possible that will be. We shall see!

Helljumper 206 :  
*casually takes picture of comment and moves on, whistling nonchalantly*

Steelrain66 :  
I am contractually obligated not to confirm or deny spoilers! XD

*I'm the spark for the idea and even I don't know what's going to happen. Then again I like not knowing the full plan.* -Espacole


	13. Archangel Part I

XxX----XxX----XxX

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XxX----XxX----XxX

Fifteen minutes passed before the cat-suited woman’s replacement arrived, in a similarly tight fitted but more padded looking black suit. Unlike the woman, he carried a rifle on his back and a shotgun besides, and strode with a straight-backed purpose, shoulders squared and eye gazing passively but intently around him for threats. This, she knew, was a soldier through and through, experienced enough from tours and press events in her youth. Mistralian bronze and black stitched cloth or Cerberus synthetic fibers, it didn’t matter. A soldiers’ walk was always a soldier’s walk.

An odd kind of comfort, that small familiarity, but one that had her already feeling warmer towards the dark-skinned man than his fair-skinned compatriot.

“Commander. Your supplies.” The man nodded, adjusting a small hip pouch meaningfully as he joined them. The explosives, then. The soldier turned to the two Huntresses, then, and he nodded his head and offered a hand, “Jacob Taylor, Cerberus specialist. Glad to meet both of you, even if the reason for it… Isn’t the best.”

“Pyrrha Nikos, Mistralian Huntress.” She nodded, smiling warmly and taking the offered hand. Using her home and title was possibly not the wisest move, but she would be damned a second time before she cast away civility for fear. “Glad to meet you, though I agree circumstances are not ideal.”

“Huntress?” The man’s brow furrowed, “What do you mean- Ack!”

“Hello, new friend!” Penny crowed excitedly, grabbing his hand in both of hers and shaking it eagerly and forcefully. Enough to stagger the larger, more powerfully built man and draw wide, surprised eyes until she released him and let him stagger to the side, grinning all the while,. “I am Penny Polendina and I look forward to saving future friend Archangel with you!”

“Maybe don’t say that so loud…”

“Oh, yes. You are quite right, Pyrrha. I am sorry.” The girl nodded, ignoring the man shaking his now-sore arm and giving the Commander a surprised look. “I will quietly be excited to save our future, nameless friend, who is in no way related to angles. Or arches.”

“...Angels.” Pyrrha corrected gently, “Not angles.”

“Those too!” She smiled, head tilted to the side and bouncing on her heels. 

“Penny… Gods, Penny, but you are ridiculous.” Pyrrha sighed but she couldn’t fight her smile, hiding it behind her hand instead and turning to the armored woman beside her. In a more serious tone, smiling pleasantly or not, she prompted her gently, “What is our plan to take our friend from the trap he wallows in, then? I assume you have one.”

“Jacob, key them into our secure channel while I talk.” She ordered sharply, the two women holding up their Omni-Tools, old and shoddy as they were, for him to work. While he did, she tugged an armored helmet on over her head and rolled her shoulders, sighing, “Nikos, you’re pretending to take charge of this operation. I can not be recognized en mass or there will be problems, and Jacob can’t be made for a Cerberus agent.”

“Yeah that… That can be a pretty bad problem, yeah.” The man grimaced and, holding a hand against his side, he sighed. Grinning, he shrugged and added in a cheerier, if forced sounding, way, “And I guess we don’t want the little one being the pretend leader, either. At least not compared to the damn Krogan wrestler over here.”

“I really wish people would drop that…” Even if it was rather amusing, and useful besides.

“Focus.” The woman snapped her fingers for it, metal clanking together as she did. With their attention on her once again, she began to speak, voice low but firm and authoritative in a way that Pyrrha recognized in the same way she’d recognized the soldiery in Jacob. “Eclipse will be there and that means mechanized units, mainly in the form of their security robots. I’ll take an access shunt to disable their target acquisition and differentiation protocols.”

“Means they’ll shoot anyone around ‘em when they turn on.” Jacob volunteered, giving her a smile when she grimaced. “These kind of folks don’t deserve any better.”

“On Omega, everyone is like them.” She corrected simply, eyes hard and lips pressed into a thin line. “We don’t have a police force here on the station. Those people are probably just locals trying to eat… Or do something good around here, and joined up with whoever they thought could help...”

“Didn’t take you for a local, Nikos.” Shepard challenged. Or rather, everything that came from her mouth, edged and tight with anxiety as it was, felt a challenge now.

“I’m not. Not really, at the least.” Though she couldn’t properly quantify where she was from. For her, it certainly was not from Omega. “I just… Aside from the Blood Pack, there are good people among the mercenaries.”

“Not here there won’t be, Red.” Jacob assured her, offering a gentle smile along with the words. Her brow rose and he explained, gesturing for the group to pile into the car while he talked, “Here, they’ll have brought in their professional forces. The bosses and their personal men, not local hires that run police work. Especially with the Plague situation on the far side of the station, they’ll leave their best fighters here.”

“Which means just the assholes. And take the front seat, you’re supposed to be the leader after all.” Shepard explained in answer, sliding across the backseat with Penny close behind. Past her and to Pyrrha in the front passenger, Jacob climbing in to drive for them. “All of ‘em are the slaving, drug running, pirate kinds there, and freelancers that wanna be them. No one that deserves your sympathy.”

“Forgive my impertinence, Ma’am, I just… Faced similar, once upon a time. I will do what I must.” And only what she must, at that. Fighting didn’t necessarily beget killing, and she was in a unique situation to avoid blooding her weapon properly. And she was sure Penny would do the same. “Please, continue.”

“I’ll deal with the automated units, as I said.” She reiterated, reaching forward to pat her fist against the armored man’s shoulder. “Jacob will find a place to stash our explosives that will have a good payoff. You head to whoever is in charge with your friend, feign checking in, and we’ll meet up ahead of the attack proper. If we can, we crash this party and hit them from behind.”

“If we can’t?” Jacob asked.

“Well, then we improvise.” The woman answered, a hand on the heavy Carnifex at her side and a look that met Pyrrha’s eye when she turned to look over her shoulder. Pointing a finger, the woman challenged, “I look forward to what you can do, Nikos. I hope that Krogan brawl wasn’t a one-off.”

“I assure you it was not.” And she’d only lost for the unexpectedness of Biotic furiosity, which she had shamefully underestimated. Which was not something she would repeat a second time, if she came up against another Biotic Krogan.

But really, what were the odds of that?

The path they took through Omega’s weaving and meandering tunnels was different then the one Sidonis had taken them on. Be it for less familiarity or some other, tactical reason, she couldn’t hope to know. It was slower, too, and that left them in tense silence for the duration. Aside from Penny’s eager chatter and unanswered questions about what they were seeing fly by, or in turn flying by themselves, but the young android didn’t seem to mind. Just happy to be there, she supposed.

Which… Pyrrha could sympathise with, frankly, pressing a hand to her newly nonexistent wound on her chest.

“Problems, Nikos?” Jacob asked from her side, one eyebrow raised but his eyes still ahead on the purely proverbial road. 

“What?” She blinked, stiffening in her seat at the sudden, surprising question. 

“Look like you’re having chest pains or something, they way you’re holding yourself. Are you alright?” Anxiously and self-consciously, the Mistralian forced her hands down and away, resting on the arm-rests. The man only chuckled, though, and offered a quiet, “It’s fine to be nervous, kid. Fight like this and you got a friend in it without you there to help, makes all kinds of sense to me.”

“Ah, yes, that.” That wasn’t at all where her head had been, but it was a valid point, and a probable part of the problem to hand besides. Taking a breath, and wishing the Brother of Darkness were there to so helpfully calm her emotions, she explained as best she could, “I get anxious before missions, more often than not. I… Had one go rather wrong, and was badly wounded for it.”

“From how you were sitting… Shot in the chest?” The less animated and bubbly of the women in the back seat asked, earning a small hum of affirmation for it. “Yeah, I get that. Had a few rough missions myself. You should see the inside of my…”

“Ma’am?” Jacob grunted after she suddenly fell silent, “You alright?”

“Everyone has rough missions, Nikos. And all manner of scars to show for it.” The woman finally grunted, turning to look out the window and, when Pyrrha turned to look, thumbing the top of her hand cannon idly. “What matters is how you deal with it. And given I’ve seen you wrestle a Krogan Battlemaster, I would say you have very little to be nervous about.”

The woman was older than her, and with age came wisdom even if Pyrrha hadn’t already reached the same conclusions. Still, reaching a decision and enforcing it were wholly different matters, and she could do little but ignore the tightness in her chest. It was the usual, and likely unhealthy, approach, to be certain. But hey, it worked well enough for her.

At least for now.

“Coming in to land, Ma’ams.” Jacob grunted simply as the sky-car angled down, towards a large parking area full of other sky-cars of varying designs. And levels of maintenance. “And… And do I hear gun fire?”

“What?” The helmeted woman pressed a button and a window lowered, the air whipping in as the sky-car lowered.

And, carrying with it, the distant staccatos of automatic fire and the intermittent thump of explosions. She’d worked, trained and fought with Nora enough to recognize the sound well enough. Leaning forward in her seat, she flicked her hands and her weapons shot up and over her, into her hands. Beside her, Jacob did similar, drawing a thin Predator in one hand and piloting them down with the other. 

When the sky-car shuddered to a landing and they piled out, the sounds were louder, funneled by the building complex the mercenaries had staged in. 

“You’re late, damn freelancers… Fight’s already started!” A blue and white armored Batarian called out as they disembarked, weapons ready but attacks withheld as they approached. True to their plan, the threesome behind her fell in further back, and the man addressed Pyrrha for it. “The hell have you freelancers been? And your answer had better be pretty damn good, too, or I’ll send you packing.”

Not likely, to say the least…

“We were told to be here ten minutes from now.” She argued simply, offering a small shrug and then nodding past him towards the distant sounds of fighting. Doing her very best impression of the apathetic mercenary, she crossed her arms, weapons glinting meaningfully, and asked, “I’m sure you know who I am, and why you want to permit me through these doors.”

“I mean, I do feel like I recognize you…”

“She’s the crazy bitch what went in on a brawl with a Battlemaster.” Shepard tossed over the Mistralian’s shoulder, leaning on it and cocking her head towards her and affecting an odd, off-kilter and backwoods sort of voice. “I saw the bruises myself, too. Damn good fight, that. Wouldn’t ‘ave signed with anyone else, tell you that.”

“That… N7 armor?”

“Sure is, all right.” The woman laughed, pushing off her pretend-leader and flexing an arm to show off the red stripe. “Killed one and took her armor, since if fit and all.”

“Hmph. Guess you might be useful, late or not. And hell, no skin off my teeth, you rushing in behind the other freelancers.” The man sighed and shrugged, then, seemingly apathetic to whatever would be coming. With a final, larger, shrug he grunted, “Head through, then. Straight into the fight, down the hallway here and through the main causeway.”

“Got it.”

“And don’t go in any of the doors, neither.” The Batarian grunted shortly, leaning forward to get in his face and breathing his rancid breath into her eyes. While she fought the urge to wince, he went on in that same snide, demeaning tone, “Real mercenaries are in there gettin’ ready to come in behind you Freelancers when you’re done playing war.”

“Got it. Thank you for the warning, sir.” She repeated, offering a small smile and laying a hand on his chest for the briefest moments. Then, when he stepped back, and flicked a finger to gently push the armored plates with her Semblance. He staggered and nearly fell over a step beside him and she cautioned him, “Be careful! We might need you real mercenaries to come and help us after all.”

Was it a bit cold and callous of her? Most certainly. But it wasn’t like he’d know she’d done something, Semblances weren’t a known quantity in this galaxy, much less on Omega. And she was fairly certain Darkness enjoyed a spot of mischief, besides. And while being spiteful wasn’t something that had always been natural to her, her time at Beacon and on Omega had taught her to get her little digs in so it would be easier to let people's slights and insults go.

“What now, Ma’am?” She asked when they were through the door and turned down a long hallway, a massive barricade closing off the main thoroughfare itself blocking their way. “Time does not appear to be on our side any longer. Tarrying may cause bigger problems than a few robots are likely to.”

“Give me the explosives.” She ordered simply, neither contesting or agreeing with the Mistralian’s words. Jacob did, sliding the little pouch off his waist and pitching it to the woman, and she went on, “I’ll disappear here and deal with the robots and whoever else is the most opportune, you three join the fight.”

“Aye, Ma’am.” The two humans murmured quietly.

“I am combat ready!”

Without further to say the woman rolled her shoulders and her body seemed to crackle, as though electricity were crawling along her body.As it went, it seemed to disintegrate her, the black armor vanishing in its wake. Soon enough, all that was left was nothingness, before one of the doors along the hall opened to, presumably, admit her through it. She caught sight of a single robot before the door sealed and shrugged her shoulders.

“Well I suppose-”

“That’s awesome!” Penny crowed as quietly as she could manage - so, a small roar - as she bounced on her feet. Still excited, she followed the other two as they went and murmured brightly, “I too want to turn invisible! I could see so many interesting things if no one could see me… Oh, the things I could see!”

Pyrrha actively chose to force her mind to take that as innocently as possible instead of other ways it could be interpreted.

Down the hallway and past a turn, they were let out into the thoroughfare, and sound returned in full. Mercenaries in a variety of armor of varying qualities, from shoddy, poorly maintained and apparently shieldless suits to those mora akin to what Archangel had worn when they met, or the bodysuits like Jacob wore. Of the former, she saw one stand and fall back, bleeding from a hole in her neck. Of the latter she saw one also stand to fire and be tossed back, hands anxiously clutching at a smoldering pockmark of his armor. After a moment, the Batarian rose, scowling, and retook his place on the barricades.

“Ignore everything.” Shepard’s voice was quiet and crackled in her ear,tinny sounding and coming from a small earbud she’d long ago been given to use with her Omni-Tool. “I’ve hacked the bots and am planting the charges. Do nothing, just get through.”

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“Understood, Commander.” Jacob’s voice answered while the Commander reset the bot’s targeting parameters. EDI’s program bypasses only deactivated the targeting parameters, but she grinned and, using her own talents, bypassed the activation controls entirely and routed it out through her ‘Tool. With a grin, she listed to the former Alliance Marine chime in quietly, “Uh, is that… You, Commander?”

“You’ve just been routed control of the mech’s activation sequences.” She answered with a smile, yanking the used shunt free and chucking it back, beyond the tunnel and the mechs where no one would see it. “I’m going silent to plant charges. When they detonate, activate the bots and set ‘em loose. They’ll cause all kinds of havoc.”

She didn’t wait for the man to respond, instead cutting her input from the channel and rising from her kneeling position to press the little button. A passing man in Suns armor on the other side blinked and staggered to a stop, eyes flicking to either side in confusion. Still invisible she stepped forward and brought her fist forward into his throat hard enough to crush it. The other wrapped around an arm and she pivoted, hurling him into the mech bay to choke to death on his own blood.

Leaving him there she stepped through and turned towards the sounds of fighting, slinking along with a small, vengeful smile. 

Down the hall and through a door, she came out just in time to dodge a dying man’s floundering fall from the middle barricade. She paid his gasping and grunting no mind, instead kneeling beside him and extracting a pair of remote charges. The barricades were a mix of gnarled metal scrap simply hoisted into place as well as more proper, heavy and armored, military barricades. The latter wouldn’t be easily destroyed by simple, basic det-charges, but they were poorly anchored to an old, shoddy floor, and the additions could be ruined completely besides.

Laid on her stomach, she planted the two charges at the base of the barricades, where they would be flung up and scatter the ramshackle add-ons. The handful of freelancers standing on it and firing what she was sure were meant to be suppressing shots were none the wiser to her, of course, as she rose and continued on her way.

Across the way she spotted a dozen or so Blue Suns mercenaries in a little alcove that in a more peaceful time looked like it would have been a shop, complete with a refuelling terminal and an old, alien ATM in the back corner. Now, though, the atm was dark and useless, stacked high with ammunition crates and surrounded by soldiers, though the refuelling port was clear. Drums of Eezo were laid to the side of it and, had she a way through the guards there, the target would have been an ideal one.

Instead, she set one on the lip of the door, where it wouldn’t be noticed. Not in the time they had to notice it, at least.

Moving on, she rounded the barricade and caught sight of her team in the distance, about to hop the front-most fortification and ‘assault’ Archangels position. In their wake was a sheltered vehicle bay of sorts, with two guards by the doors just inside and an armored engineer repairing a gunship. A gunship that she had zero doubt would intervene if they left it alone. And missile and heavy cannon oriented intervention was not something she wanted to deal with.

Luckily, she had a high ordinance solution for that particular heavy caliber problem currently hanging off her ass.

Three steps on the way towards the bay she flinched and slid to the side, pressed against the front of the middle barricade. Turning she saw the source of the footsteps, in turn the source of her sudden panic, as a small squad of soldiers led by a heavily armored woman strolled through towards the gunship. 

“-deal with him easily enough, once the Freelancers are gone.” The woman was saying, briefing her team on the go most likely. In the same clipped, oddly concerned tone, she went on, “Load up and prepare to breach the upper windows. Commander Tarak will be piloting so if you fuck up, he’s going to see it, and I don’t want to have to deal with him trying to come down on one of you.”

Great.

She was a nice one, and for all her training and lack of care who she fought Jane hated killing nice ones. It always felt contradictory, somehow, to do that. She’d never been able to put it into words, though, and had rapidly given up trying to.

A moment later the next squad of soldiers passed by, led by an agitated looking Batarian she assumed to be Tarak. He stopped to shout at the engineer who’d been working on the gunship for a moment while his men loaded up and assistant technicians to finish reloading the gunship’s weapons. After a few minutes the dozen and change in mercenaries was loaded in and Tarak had climbed into the cockpit, lifting off and back before soaring away, taking with it her hopes for sabotage. The bay, then, was mostly abandoned as the assistants filed away to other duties, with the head engineer left alone to clean up and prepare for any further repairs it might need later.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t cause them future problems. Normally she’d not have bothered, leaving people and things that didn’t need dealing with alone. But of course, normally they weren’t trying to off her best friend, so she didn’t feel a need to treat this like a normal occurrence. 

Once the others had left she stood and made her way to the bay’s entrance, hiding all but one of her charges around the door. The last she gave to the wall beside the front barricade where even now Eclipse and Sun mercenaries were huddled, shoulder to shoulder and without a scratch of knowledge of what was coming for them. 

Sucked to be them, she supposed.

But hey, not her problem in the slightest. At least outside ammo count and the cost of her explosives, as morbid as that consideration sometimes was.

Once in the bay she found a button and closed the heavy, rolling doors. An action that drew looks from the mercenaries at the barricade but, given the literal bullets pinging intermittently off their barricade, their attention was quickly off of it. The view dealt with, she stood and turned to look at the distracted engineer who had his back turned to them and grinned as a plan began to form.

Lifting her Omni-Tool and rolling her shoulders, she retook control of the drones from Jacob and activated them. In the same moment that she heard the distant staccato of light pistol and submachine gun fire, she set off the charges she’d at the front barricade. The explosion shook the room she was in hard enough she almost fell, instead kneeling and setting off the one next to the Suns she’d seen earlier. Less were there now, she was certain with the gunship, but the cascading whump thump of the charges and the Eezo was still satisfying. And no doubt catastrophic to the command chain she was fairly sure had been stationed there.

“What the hell? Were those… Fuck me.” She heard the engineer cry when the explosions stopped, grabbing a fire extinguisher and rushing towards the door control. Stopping beside her, but unaware of that fact, he reached for the button and snapped, “Who the hell shut this damn door?!”

“Sorry.” She snarked, letting her cloak crackle away and pressing the head of her Carnifex into the soft armor of his throat. “Was that supposed to stay open? No one told me.”

“Mother fucker…”

“Now that’s just rude. My mother happened to be very pretty, but I’d never be a mother fucker.” She grunted simply, pressing the pistol into his throat to force him back and away from the door. With a heavy clang, he let the extinguisher go to raise his hands in surrender and she smiled, walking him back towards his maintenance rig. “I think you should apologize.”

“Apologize…?” The Batarian’s eyes narrowed but then he blinked in realization, the smart one that he was. “O-Oh, right, yeah. I’m sorry I called you a mother fucker. That was, uh, rude of me.”

“See, now I’m going to feel bad.”

“For what- Ack!” Her fist, augmented with cybernetics as it was now, punched considerably harder than she’d meant to. Hard enough he spun on a heel and flailed, crashing into his tools and scattering them. 

“For framing you, obviously.” She answered quietly, kneeling beside him and lifting his arm up. Finding his ‘Tool was easy enough, as was accessing it with her superior Omni-Tool and access programs. While she framed him, routing explosives and bot-shunt controls into his Omni-Tool and doing it obviously, she rambled to herself, “I mean, you don’t know I’m framing you. Not yet, obviously. But you, uh, yeah. You will.”

Once that was done she smiled and lifted the man’s arm, pressing a button on his Omni-Tool. In answer, the door behind her, and safely out of blast radius of course, detonated violently. Old concrete, rebar and the heavy rolling doors were shorn away in a spray of debris that scattered across the room as the door came down. Thankfully it fell out rather than in, crunching down in a tidal wave of heavy metal layers that caught several soldiers under it and crushed fully half of the already badly damaged front barricade.

On the other side mercenaries, of the blue and yellow varieties, staggered away and coughed at the dust. By the time the dust settled, though, her cloak was crackling back to life and the security drones - heavy Ymir mech included - were beginning to attack the soldiers between the middle and front barricade. With the Commander herself invisible and the droids distracting them, she knew her plant would work.

Sucked to be him, but she could keep her involvement under wraps, at the very least.

“Jacob.” She murmured quietly, making her way towards the entrance, “Report. I’ve neutralize the robots, sabotaged repair for the gunship, and tied up the forces not deployed actively. What’s happening on your end?”

“Suns are coming in the damn windows!” He answered, pausing long enough to correspond uncomfortably with a distant crack crack of his rifle alongside a heavier punch of Garrus’ sturdy sounding Mantis. When he came back “I’m up top with the asset, the girls are down below, in the access tunnels trying to keep the ‘Pack at bay and seal the doors. We’re fine, but they have three ways in and two of them to try and handle them.”

“Which will make securing an area enough to seal it hard.” She nodded, “Are they holding well enough at least?”

“Yeah.” He answered, “Or at least, they haven’t said they aren’t, and we don’t exactly have Krogan crawling up our backs or anything.”

“Eclipse is about to send their own people across and in the front, too.” And in spite of the bots shooting them in the back if they did it, too. A couple dozen of them were clumping up to make the push, though, while a couple Asari hurled Biotic fury back towards the entrance. “Two dozen, lightly armed. I could intervene here, when they rush out, or-”

“No.” The man snapped hotly, foregoing decorum for his focus on the fight to hand. A slip she could more than forgive, considering. “I can hold the window and the door long enough. Get the girls and then come in to help. If the ‘Pack is down there, Garm is too, and the asset says he’s a Battlemaster.”

And a Battlemaster was something that Nikos hadn’t been able to handle in the past…

“Hold on.” She ordered simply, turning and trotting through the entryway and towards the building across the bridge as she did. “I’ll seal up the access tunnels with them and then come and support you.”

“Understood, Commander.”

XxX----XxX----XxX

The Prime Cronos :  
Glad you liked it.

Dr Killinger :  
Yeah, one does not simply piss off Mama Shepard.

Blaiseing Fire :  
Yus~!


	14. Archangel Part II

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XxX----XxX----XxX

“Die, Human!” Yet another Vorcha snarled, barely armored at all and rushing her with naught but claws and pointed teeth, both bared to attack her. 

Arms wide, it rushed through the door from the little vehicle bay and towards the stairs they were defending. Pyrrha met it, sinking to a knee and sliding under its clumsy, feral swipe and pivoting behind the creature. Her sword whistled through the air and the creature hissed as it struck true, hamstringing the alien and sending it tumbling back into her. She caught it on her shield and, with practiced ease, rolled onto her back and launched it back through the door in full force. It struck another snarling Vorcha that had decided to try its luck and, together, they were sent flailing through the door while she spun and pushed herself up with a hand.

Rising, she punched her shield forward and caught a third in the sternum. And while she couldn’t be sure that Vorcha sternums worked the same way, the results were still as she’d hoped. Its snarl died in a hiss and it buckled over her shield before the force of her Aura backed blow hurled it across their little entry-way and into a wall where it folded in on itself and, dead or unconscious, slid into a heap on the floor.

A fourth leapt on her back, one claw closing around her throat and the other clawing uselessly at her back, but it didn’t last much longer than the others. One of her hands closed around its wrist and she wrenched, the bone snapping as it was hauled over her and slammed into the ground. It snarled a threat but her blade bit down, punching through its shoulder and effectively neutering its ability to fight before running her fingers over the metal of its little vest thing and leaping back. Semblance motivated, the creature slid and was hurled away into the access tunnels, hissing loudly all the while.

“Raaaagh!” She leapt high and over the armored, charging Krogan and let it slam into the wall beside the stairs that led back up and into the base proper. Turning, the alien laughed, the booming sound intimidating and cock-sure as it blustered, “I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you since I saw your little fight. Now I get to show you how a real Krogan-”

Its words died in a pained scream as four swords shot into its side and wrenched it up, Penny, turning on a heel and almost dancing towards the alien. Pirouetting, the alien spun over her head and was hurled like a wrecking ball. A wrecking ball aimed straight at another Krogan, which was crushed against the wall with a wet snap and thunk. Neither got back up, laying in a listless heap beside the door, and Pyrrha sighed. 

“So wasteful…” She thought to herself as she straightened and looked at the dead. “To die here…”

A Huntress’ duty didn’t end at killing Grimm, though. Criminals, fallen Hunters, and terrorists were on the menu as well. And so, ill as it made her and as much as she tried to merely wound and turn aside her enemies, she knew the eventualities as well as anyone else.

“My scans dictate that they are falling back once again, Friend Pyrrha.” Penny reported, her hovering swords around her shoulders like a halo of colorfully stained death. Looking grim, she let her hands fall and the swords folded, sliding into her backpack again. “This is the twelfth attack we have turned back. A shame we can’t pursue and seal the entrances to end this.”

“If we do, they’ll rush in and past whoever stays.” Even Huntresses couldn’t hope to simply stop them rushing by, and she knew they would try it. She and Penny had already repulsed one such attempt. “Together, we can keep them back.”

“Just barely…”

“Yeah. Only just.” Pyrrha nodded, twirling her sword in her hand and extending it into her spear form. Resting the base on the floor and holding it upright with her finger on the very tip, she forced a smile and went on, “But such is all we need to hold the ground and frustrate our opponents’ desired advance.” 

“I hope so, Friend Pyrrha.” Pyrrha gave her automaton friend a look, brows knitting in worry, and she flinched. Smiling wider than normal, even for her, and waved her hands between them to ward off her friend’s worries. “I-I am alright, Friend Pyrrha. Merely worried, and disliking this manner of fighting. Battles against the Grimm and sparring with friends is far more gratifying.”

“I think I understand what you mean, Penny. And I… Feel the same.” She spared the dead around her a look and sighed, already exhausted. Luckily, the number of dead were few, and only those they’d been unable to repulse. Almost all Krogan, though, hurled against the walls to keep them from being overwhelmed by sheer weight of mass. “It’s like fighting the Grimm…”

“Yes, as disgusting as it is to face them in such a manner.” The android nodded, “And like the Grimm, they always come back.

Along with her words the android stepped forward, rolling her shoulders and flicking her wrists in one fluid, almost rhythmic motion. Her blades answered readily, floating under her arms as though she were winged herself. Like an angel, but bladed for dealing death rather than mercy. An angel of death, literally resurrected and sent to battle by an actual god of death and destruction.

It was almost funny, if not for the blood along the edges and the drumming of boots on metal and alien concrete.

This time, it was only Krogan who came through the doors, and two apiece. The Krogan hesitated for only a moment, but that was all Penny needed, her blades spinning into formation and blasting two with concentrated bursts of green energy. The aliens bellowed and charged, but only four of them took more than a few steps, the other two shuddering and collapsing in smoldering heaps, their faces and fronts melted almost wholly away. 

A grim picture, to say the least, but not one she could dwell on at the moment.

The first Krogan bellowed as it reached her, heavy hammer raised overhead in two hands. The heavy weapon came down and she leapt, sailing high over the alien and hurling her shield into the soft meat of the top of its neck as the hammer bit into the concrete. The alien staggered as she landed and turned, spear held in both hands and used to brace herself as the second’s slimmer, clearly industrial in nature, hammer slammed down on her. The force was enough for her to grunt and sink to a knee, but she didn’t buckle, and she saw deep green eyes widen at that.

They really thought her fight against the Battlemaster had been faked, she supposed.

Raising one side suddenly, the weight shifted and the hammer slid to the side as she spun, punching the base of the polearm into soft flesh just behind the alien’s crest. He snarled but staggered regardless and she lashed out with a hand, using her Semblance to rip the hammer out of his hand and hurling it into the face of the other Krogan as it turned. As it crumpled, groaning and unconscious, she turned to her last recovering opponent.

Only for it to buck to the side as loud, sudden gunfire carved into its soft side-head. Four shots there, right in the Krogan’s weak spot - one of very few of them - it found the single track that led back to its redundant systems and carved a fist sized hole into it.With tragically predictable results

“I heard you ladies were having a spot of trouble. Garrus asked me to come and give you a hand.” The Commander said as she lowered her Carnifex. Looking over the battlefield as Penny hurled her opponent aside and twirled, dancing to flick her blades and clean them of blood, the woman whistled, “Looks like you were holding pretty damn well, though, if I’m honest.”

“Holding, but not taking ground, Commander.” Pyrrha sighed, calling her shield back to her and grimacing at the orange that had painted a full quarter of its surface. “Three doors, two fighters, we couldn’t have held the room and sealed the entry-ways without letting them get in behind us.”

“Not criticising, I get the problem.” The woman nodded, walking down the steps and looking around her. “Gotta say, surprised you two were so… Ruthless. I thought you weren’t the types to kill.”

“A Huntress must protect people at all costs, and sometimes, fighting means hurting your enemies.” Penny answered, rolling her shoulders and collapsing her swords into her pack while Shepard watched on, no doubt curious about what that was all about. “We avoid it when we can, but sometimes, spending time to merely wound or disable in a fight to save one life could cost several more.”

“And you said these were not the kindly locals I feared facing.” Pyrrha added, shrugging noncommittally and turning to the woman. “You said they were criminals tried and true, of the crueler and more dishonorable sorts. The kinds not deserving of as much sympathy as simple locals making a living. And ones we ought to make haste to deal with, now that we can, I would wager.”

“Good point.” Shepard nodded, replacing her half-spent thermal clip as she approached them and they talked. “Do you have ideas on our approach, Nikos?”

“I take the access tunnels here, you take the micro-tunnel over there, and Penny takes the parking zone. Whichever of us finish our areas first, ” She’d have plenty of room to maneuver in there, she was sure, even if she did not like using her lasers so freely. Such would attract attention, but then, so would Legion, Shepard herself, and Pyrrha fighting with a spear, so such couldn’t be avoided. “If you have disagreements, then now is-”

“Contact!” Penny shouted, turning to look towards the access area’s door as a truly massive Krogan lumbered into view. 

Decked out in bright red armor covered with somehow less scars than the Krogan’s hide, the Blood Pack’s leader glared hate at them and rolled his shoulders. Biotics crackled along his body and Pyrrha grimaced, putting herself between the Commander and the Krogan while it bellowed a challenge, “Little girl! How about a second fight with a Krogan Battlemaster? You did so well the first time, after all!”

“As if we’d be so-”

“I’ll handle him, Commander. We don’t have time for us to dally her any further.” Pyrrha interrupted, striding forward and raising her shield. The Commander, swearing under her breath but not arguing with her, gave her a nod and she stepped forward, looking to Penny and nodding, “Seal the breaches and get back here. I will hold the line as a Mistralian ought to.”

“Friend Pyrrha…”

“This is not like Beacon, I assure you. You needn’t worry, I can handle this.” She assured the concerned machine before Garm growled, trundling towards her. Luckily, the android listened, using her swords to punch into the roof and swinging around and across the room towards the vehicle bay.

“Your friends won’t be able to break through my Blood Pack.” The Krogan growled as he neared, slamming his fists together and sending blue energy crackling along the floor. Grinning, he added, “While you were thinning out the wages I had to pay, they were entrenching.”

True to his words, she heard the crackling of gunfire in both directions and grimaced.

“They can handle themselves, don’t worry about that.” She assured the Krogan, flexing her Aura to take stock of it. Around seventy percent or so, if she had to guess. Enough to fight here, she was sure, with more room to maneuver than she’d had before. “As can I, more to the point. And you will find far more of a match in me now than I met before.”

The Krogan’s cruel bark of laughter turned into a bellow as he charged, shoulder down and teeth bared. Having learned her lesson about the power a Biotic could bring to bear, she dropped her hips and leapt to the side, turning it into a roll and pushing off with her hands to launch herself up and land back on her feet far and away from the Krogan as his shoulder met the steel of a crate beside the stairs and ruined it. With a flick to shift it, she raised her rifle and barked rounds into his armored back.

As expected, the rounds sparked off his Barrier, but her attack had the desired effect. Rounding on her, he charged again, and this time she held her ground. Literally.

Kneeling suddenly, she slapped her hand to the floor to touch the metal grating there and then lashed out and up, the metal answering in kind. Metal tore and spindled up like a thousand fingers and the alien’s eyes widened as he tried to slow. To late, though, his massive frame bringing with it far more inertia than he could hope to stop, and his Biotics having fed the charge into something that only worsened his state. 

The trap closed around him, ragged metal puncturing his hide in places as he slammed into it and, like a metal venus fly trap, it closed around him. Standing, she curled her fingers tighter to further tighten the proverbial noose, and the metal answered, roiling around him and cocooning him while he struggled and his Biotics sparked. The image was a rather twisted one, to say the least, the Krogan’s eyes wide and feral and nothing else of him visible aside from blood leaking out of the intertwining steel of the floor.

“What the hell is this, you red-haired bitch?” The Battlemaster demanded as she ordered the metal to lift and move him, pressing him, trapped and helpless, into the corner under the stairs. She raised a hand and closed her fist and the Krogan groaned, blue sparking and sparkling around his head as she crushed him and he resisted for all he was able. “W-What the hell are you?”

“A Huntress, Garm. And someone that far out-matches you, as well.” She answered simply, twining the steel over his mouth now while he glared hate and fear at her. “This,” she pushed him back and the wall under the stairs groaned, “will hold you until the battle is over. If and when someone comes to free you, reconsider your chosen profession. And ensure that your little band of mercenaries knows not to get in the way of the Huntress again.”

He, of course, didn’t answer. Her metal made gag saw to that, as exhausting as it had been to wrench up several feet of metal out of the concrete had been. It was all a rather dramatic display but one that, she hoped, would keep the Blood Pack from hounding her the way killing him would have. If she simply killed him then his replacement would hunt her, for revenge or to prove his mettle, and that wasn’t something she wanted to encourage.

Particularly not when she could simply trap him and leave him to escape later.

“Not everything needs to be a fight to the bloody death.” She murmured under her breath as she moved to the door and manually sealed it, the heavy locks groaning as the thick, armored steel slammed into place.

“Nikos!” The Mistralian turned as the Commander rushed into the area, Carnifex in hand and no doubt hoping to help her. She paused, then, and looked around the room for a moment before murmuring, “What the hell happened here…?”

“I fought and captured Garm, a leader of the Blood Pack.” And in the process ripped up half the room’s floor and shoved him into a corner like some kind of demented metal spider. As a result, the room look like a bomb had gone off. But she elected to ignore that and press them to move on, “I trust that your path went well?”

“Yeah, nothing I couldn’t handle.” Pyrrha’s eyes landed on a pitted scorch mark just under one of her breasts and the woman huffed, brushing a hand across it and shrugging. “Armor didn’t breach. Don’t worry, it happens. We should go and help your friend before she gets-”

“I am back, Friend Pyrrha! And I am successful, the Blood Pack forces have been routed and the access door sealed.” The little android called as she skipped into the ruined room and looked around, mouth a little ‘o’ of surprise as she approached them. She noticed Garm, eyes all that could be seen now under the cocoon of metal, and waved at him. “Oh my goodness, Friend Pyrrha, but you really did go all out.”

“I learned better than to try and actually fight Biotic Krogans.” And at least wherever and whenever she could help it, she’d not bother. Easier to avoid or trap them, really, and far less costly in terms of time and Aura. “As our objectives are all completed, we ought to return to Archangel’s side, no?”

As if on cue, the building shook and the Turian’s voice crackled in their ears, “Blue Suns are making a move! They’re coming in through the damn windows, floor one and two.”

“Son of a- Zaeed, come in for air support right now. Enemy gunship in the air, get some fire on it. Once we clear out the infantry, prepare for rapid-exfil.” Shepard ordered, turning and taking off with the two women on her heels. Talking over her shoulder, she ordered in rapid-fire, “Nikos, Polendina, you two take floor one while I reinforce Taylor and Archangel on floor two. Clear it, and come to support us and wait for pick up.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Got it!”

Together, the trio barreled out of the stair access on the first floor, and stepped into a war zone. A dozen of the blue armored mercenaries swarmed the wide, open room, spraying fire at the window of the office up top while Biotic fury rained down. An unfortunate woman lost her head as the Commander closed with her, Omni-Balade glowing hot as she ran by and ended her, but other than that the woman left those downstairs alone.

A fact they quickly noticed, turning and falling back and away from them to cover. Cover that wouldn’t, in truth, matter.

Penny was the faster, sweeping forward with her lasers propelling her small but dense form. That density was soon discovered by a veritable bear of a man who she leapt into at all speed, feet planting in his chest. Blue Suns armor wilted under her sheer force and mass and he was sent flying as she bounced up and back, spinning in the air and lashing out with her blades to cleave apart a pair of Vindicators held by shocked mercenaries. One drew a Predator in the same moment his weapon was destroyed, but on seeing a trio of sword punch into his gut, the other turned and fled.

Now was Pyrrha’s turn, and she made good use of it, launching forward to land on the low table and punching the rim of her shield into the woman taking cover there’s helmet. Glass and steel shattered and the woman reeled, but a boot to her chin sent back and unconscious, slumped over the arm of the couch and safely not a problem for her anymore. She grunted then as rounds punched into her chest and sparked of Aura, the woman rolling to the side and collapsing on the ground for cover.

Smiling, she raised a hand and flicked it, hurling the metal-framed table through the air and crushing the trio of soldiers attempting to rush her under its weight. 

As she rose, another massive mercenary slammed into her, belting a punch into her face faster than she could blink. The blow did little, though, aside from make the mercenary hiss in pain. Leaning in, she belted her own punch into his stomach, using the rim of his shield to force his breath out of his lungs. He crumpled over her shield and she snapped out, blade cutting across his chest and carving a furrow into his armor to make a point before snapping the rim up and into his chin. His head snapped back as he sagged as a long blast of green energy fried the last of the mercenaries, and finally the gunfire went quiet.

At least for a moment, before something roared and the building shook, and a woman was hurled over the edge of the window overhead. The tan skinned woman hit the ground and groaned, looking up in time for Pyrrha to knock her out.

“That damn gunship is keeping our ride out and away.” Shepard called down, giving them a look and then pausing, as though considering something for a moment. Finally, she spoke, “I won’t ask what the hell those energy blasts are, now is not the time, but can they ground that gun-ship, Polendina?”

As it turned out, she could, and the Mistralian was tasked with covering her as they stood in the open bridge area outside the building. Supposedly, she’d been meant to fend off rushing mercenaries while Shepard, Vakarian and Taylor. Instead, she’d simply used her Semblance to raise the metal and attached concrete and seal the hole. A far more effective and bloodless solution than simply beating down or killing anyone that came her way, she believed.

“I am ready, Commander.” Penny reported once she was sufficiently prepared, kneeling in the open and with three sets of her little swords spinning in orbit around her head. “My energy blasts are charged for anti-armor usage, and if you have it brought around to me, I am confident I can eliminate the gun-ship.”

“Bringin’ it your way, tot. Don’t fuckin’ miss, either, we won’t get a second shot at this little play of yours.” The mercenary’s gravelly, old voice answered in place of the Commander’s own. 

It took a few minutes before the shuttle came by again, screaming overhead and smoking from a hit to its side. A moment later, they could hear a second set of engines. This one was a pitch deeper, and thrummed evenly unlike the shuttle. As the gunship rounded the corner and came towards the Penny hummed gently as he swords begin to spin more and more rapidly, until the edges cut the wind so sharply it whistled. At a point the gun-ship crossed that only Penny understood or saw, the sword began to glow and long blasts hissed out of them.

 

The first went off course somewhat, carving through one of the engines but doing little aside from cripple that. The second and third, though, struck far more truly. One carved a long furrow along its stomach that smoked and sparked with fire. And the other struck in the cockpit itself, coring the machine and sending it tumbling as it screamed overhead and fell away, deeper into the bowels of Omega’s forgotten districts.

She murmured a silent prayer that the wreckage would not land on anyone’s home below and sighed as the shuttle returned to at last pick them up.

“Who the hell decided not to tell me the fuckin’ midget had a GARDIAN hidden down her trousers?” Zaeed demanded as the doors opened and they began to load in, tired and dirty. 

“A conversation we will all be having back on the ship.” Shepard assured him as she fell into her seat, giving the two women a look across from her. In a terse, clearly curious but angry at not already knowing, voice she added, “We have a lot to talk about, turns out. You two can do some crazy shit.”

Pyrrha only nodded, having fully expected that sort of conversation to occur at some point. Luckily, it at least came now along with very much impressing the woman. Better now than never, she supposed...

XxX----XxX----XxX

Mild point of clarification, and I won’t expound MUCH on it, but here you go. 

Her issue previously was that she knows GOOD people enlist with the mercenaries, too. But with the clarification that these are not those kind of people, she would only really try to avoid casualties, not refuse to kill outright. She’ll never be the ‘Yeah, lol, I got fifteen kills!’ kind of character. But if in a fight she has to stab someone to protect her friends, especially knowing the Reapers are a thing, she will.

Also, yes, sparing Garm will have consequences.

XxX----XxX----XxX

Frosty Chops :  
Glad you enjoy it! Big ups to Espa for Requesting it, as always.

Hotshot 6 :  
Yeah, no, basically.

Team JNPR (Guest) :  
A thousand and change year old Battle-Master that hits harder than any kind of Grimm is EXACTLY the kind of enemy to showcase how NOT indestructible she is. To note, though, here she bests normal Krogan with relative ease. In Mass Effect, Biotics are a force multiplier.


	15. The Debrief and the Offer

XxX----XxX----XxX

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XxX----XxX----XxX

Omega station was a filthy place, covered in literally centuries of grime and rust. Filth so deep in places as to be as soil and rock, crunching underfoot every step of the way. The air was oily enough to clog and choke her throat in places, and around her the aliens and Humans living on the station matched what one would expect from that kind of place. Dirty faces, tatty clothing, and coughing, she’d grown used to it. And to the crowds that could develop in the relatively tight confines of the station’s bowels. By fortune, neither of them had grown ill, though she had the sneaking suspicion that fortune had nothing to do with their health.

Somehow, she doubted the Dark Brother would particularly enjoy watching them cough in bed for a few days.

The Normandy was an all-together different matter, though. Inside it was clean, and sparsely staffed, with only a dozen men and women in what she’d been informed was the CIC. The walls and floor were cleaner than she’d seen in what felt like months even if it couldn’t have been, outside of Legion’s Geth ships. Only a dozen or so crewmen were in the room as they passed by, not paying them any mind for the work they were doing, whatever important tasks each of them had to do to keep their ship together.

All the while, the Commander barked orders like a woman born and bred to do so.

“Vakarian, I want you in the debriefing room with me. Massani, Taylor, stow your gear and make your reports. Lawson-”

“I'm obligated to sit in on debriefs with recruits, Ma’am.” The catsuit wearing woman cut her off, the soldier rounding on her for it, standing inside the door that led into what had been labeled in big white letters as the armory. Miranda only cocked a hip and crossed her arms, though, “Orders straight from The Illusive Man, Commander.”

“I should care because…?” 

“Even you have to follow Cerberus directives, Commander.” The woman pointed out with a sarcastic little smirk that had even Pyrrha frowning heatedly. 

Seizing the commander’s moment of hesitation, the other squad members cut to the left, following the pointed finger of a young woman with red hair beside what looked like a holographic map. They hadn’t been ordered anywhere, though, and she didn’t want to risk getting on the fiery soldier’s bad side. Instead, the two young Huntresses were stuck in the CIC while the argument began to unfold.

“And if I don’t care to follow Cerberus directives?” The woman challenged, stepping close enough to the other woman that she could have kissed her, were it not for the helmet. 

But Miranda was unflappable and simply met her gaze for a long moment, before finally countering with a quiet, “Then maybe The Illusive Man will think assigning you this ship was a mistake. Maybe he will think I was wrong in pushing for you,” she pushed a finger against the other woman’s sternum, “and that all of this should be recalled.”

“...You argued I be brought back?” Shepard gestured at the ship around them, “That this be built?”

“I did.”

“Why?”

“My reasons are my own. Commander.” The raven-haired woman answered quietly, looking around her at the watching Cerberus agents and pursing her lips. As Miranda’s eyes roved by them, the agents turned back to their work, until she was gazing back ito Shepard’s visor. Sighing, she offered as amicably, and quietly, as she could, so that those around them couldn’t hear, “Save face with the crew. Order me to fetch their files, I’ll give you ten minutes.”

“I earn respect out there, with my rifle.” Shepard countered loudly, visibly relaxing and backing down. She spoke differently, now. Voice flat and back to her normal firmness, with the hint of a smile in her words. “Sometimes I earn respect by standing up to someone I shouldn’t.” Miranda’s eyes narrowed but the soldier was turning already, headed into the armory, “You three for debrief in ten minutes. I’m getting out of this armor. Order the rest of the unit to make their reports.”

“Y-Yes, Ma’am.” Miranda stuttered, a sound that seemed to be a rarity from how many of the Cerberus crewmen turned to gape at her. As the armored back of the woman vanished around the corner, the Biotic turned to give each of them appraising looks. Finally, she stepped through the door as well, sighing, “Get a move on, then.”

As she vanished, Pyrrha gave Penny a look, but the girl was already turned away, calling out to the red-haired woman, “Hello, new friend!”

“Hello!” The woman responded in oddly matching cheer, smiling widely at the girl bouncing on her heels. 

“Come on, Penny.” Pyrrha urged gently, laying a hand on her smaller gynoid friend’s shoulder. The girl turned to look up at her, smiling thinly, and for a moment Pyrrha felt very much like a parent. Gently pushing her towards the door into the armory, and hoping she didn’t look like a mother as she did, she urged the girl, “We have a debriefing first and then you can make new friends. Okay?”

“Okay, friend Pyrrha!” The girl nodded, turning to wave farewell, “I will see you later future friend whose name I don’t know yet but look forward to learning!”

The armory was a relatively expected affair, with the armored black man working at cleaning his rifle. Beside him on the table, a mound of heavy black armor that had to be Shepard’s lay, waiting on someone to levy their love and care onto it. Another table was lined with clean, even laid rifles and sidearms, and the one behind the young man was overrun with papers. Reports, she guessed, on what he used and repaired, and when.

Seeing them looking around the armor, he grunted and nodded respectfully, leaning back against his work desk and smiling amicably. Gesturing around him at the armory’s various, mostly empty on the front end, tables, he offered a simple wave, “Hey, ladies. Drop your weapons wherever you want and I’ll clean ‘em. Unless you wanna clean ‘em yourself. Either way, pick a table.”

“I would rather maintain my own weapons, if you don’t mind.” Mostly because the weapons were enchanted, or blessed maybe, to not need maintenance, but she couldn’t tell him that. He shrugged uncaringly regardless and she flicked her wrists, calling her weapons to her hands with a practiced kind of ease and laying them on the table. Grimacing at the blood on the edge, which had dried enough to at least adhere to the metal, she asked in a quiet voice, “Would you… Mind wiping the blood off, though?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll wipe ‘em clean and leave ‘em in a crate for you with some tools.” He gave her a small smile of sympathy and she returned the gesture along with a nod of thanks. Quietly, he added, pointing at the other door, “Briefing room’s on your right, through there. Didn’t hear the Commander tell ya, so there you go.”

“Thank you, Mister Taylor.”

“Jacob’s fine, Ma’am.” He corrected with a friendly smile, turning back to his work and popping the frame off of an Avenger. Distractedly, he added a parting, “Glad to have you aboard. Both of you. Good luck in the debrief, she’s gonna have a lot of questions, and she’ll probably be pushing you to feel you out.”

“Such is what happened with Miss Lawson, I suppose?” He only nodded to her question, already engrossed in her work, and Pyrrha turned a look on Penny. Smiling reassuringly, she shrugged and waved her forward, “Duties put off bring only pain, I suppose.”

“I prefer ‘nothing ventured, nothing gained’ personally.” Jacob grunted from the table, sparing them a glance only long enough to smile and nod reassuringly. “Don’t be anxious, girls. Just get through it. If you can smack a gunship outta the sky, you can handle a debrief with the Commander when she’s in a bit of a mood.”

“Is she upset?” Penny asked, ever the voice of innocent concern. With wide eyes and her hands curled against her chest anxiously, she asked, “I-Is she upset about me not forewarning her about my particle energy laser blasters? I only wanted to hurry up and save new future friend Archangel!”

“No idea, but probably not that.” The man laughed, shaking his head as he examined a long rod she didn’t have any idea the purpose of. “Think she might be feelin’ the crew out. Poking ‘em, seeing how they talk and walk, that sorta thing.”

“I see.” And that was why she’d challenged Lawson, she supposed. Testing her, to see how she’d reacted. Which explained why and how she’d so easily slid back into her seemingly normal mode of speaking, once the woman had responded enough. “I suppose this is one way to vett your allies’ personalities. Not my favored one, but...”

“Everyone has their quirks, yeah.” She nodded and joined him in chuckling, Penny merely smiling and enjoying the amicability of the conversation. She gave the android a smile and, more sure of herself than before, gestured for them to make their way out. “Before we overstay our welcome, of make her wait a tad too long.”

“Okay.” Before they left she turned to the man before Pyrrha could lead her out, though, and asked in that same ever-bright voice, “Would you be the person I would wish to speak to regarding attaining a higher understanding of Mass Effect technology’s inner workings?”

“I mean, if you mean the kind that applies to guns and armor, yeah, sure. I know more ‘n the next guy, even if I’m no tech-head or scientist. Nothin’ against ‘em, of course, but just not my line of work.” The man answered, giving her a more focused, appraising look as he explained. His other hands, practiced from years of training and work she had no doubt of, continued their efforts idly as he answered. “Doc Solus would be a better place if you want real learning, though. Mine’d be too focused.”

“Thank you, Friend Jacob.” She smiled, turning to lead Pyrrha out now that her curiosity had been satisfied.

With a shrug, the Mistralian followed her, not particularly worried about what Penny chose to spend her free time doing. And even were she, studying their new home wasn’t something she had any dislike towards. Distantly, as they stepped into the hallway, she considered the idea more deeply, “If she finds someone to teach her, I may even join her myself. Knowledge never hurts, really.”

Well, as long as one didn’t take their research too terribly far.

The briefing room she found to be rather simple and clinical, in the same way that the rest of the ship was. A long, ovular table split the room, pale white lights recessed into the joints between the roof and floor and the wall, and metal grating to walk on. At the other end of the room, dressed in a tightly fitted, matte black and gently textured like scales, skinsuit stood the commander herself, arms crossed and head down. In the cleaner light she was rather pretty, with pale skin, reddened hair, and fine features.

“I see you finally decided to show up, we were beginning to wonder if we should send a search party for you.” Miranda said from beeside her, a nearly perfect eyebrow rising towards her equally perfect hairline. 

In a lot of ways, she found the commander prettier than her counterpart. Her snark and was likely not the least of the cause for Pyrrha's instinctive dislike, but it was only part of it she knew. A brief moment’s thought answered her wonder for why, glancing the woman up and down rapidly. She was too perfect. Inhumanly so, even. Her proportions were flawless and perky like a younger woman, but swelled like an older one, and her skin was flawless. Even her hair was well kept, with not a frayed end in sight.

She looked built, not born, and that had her eyes narrowed and her suspicion up as Penny stepped up to the table and the door closed. 

“Nikos first.” The Commander grunted shortly, startlingly bright green eyes landing on her as she stepped forward and nodded. Watching her, the woman rattled off her information mechanically, in the way someone establishing something before moving to what they really wanted to know did. “You get shot and don’t take damage. EDI’s scans confirmed you didn’t have any Eezo in or on you, so shield and Barriers are out. And besides, I saw what you did to Garm, and that isn’t Biotics I’ve ever seen.”

“No, Ma’am.” She answered quietly, standing shock still and straight. The way that he military sparring trainers had taught her to, later in life. “It is neither Eezo based nor was I using Biotics. I confess I know little about either of these things, honestly.”

“Not Biotics or Eezo based technologies? I don’t know what else it could be...” Miranda asked quietly, giving the Commander a look asking for permission. Getting her permission in the form of a nod, the too perfect woman pressed, louder and more surely, “We need to know what your abilities are, and how you use them. Without such knowledge, we will be at a disadvantage in combat.”

“Your energy weapons can wait.” Shepard added, nodding to the small android. Rolling her eyes, the woman actually smiled and chuckled, sounding genuinely amused. “The hell kinda life am I living where god damn lasers aren’t the most interesting thing in a conversation?”

“The important kind.” Miranda offered with a small shrug and an amused smile. A smile that turned hard and false as she returned her attention to Pyrrha and her smaller friend. “So, if not those answers, what is the answer?”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained, as the good man said…” “Aura.” She answered simply, kneeling to unclasp her greave as she explained further. “It’s… A complicated matter, how it works. I am woefully unqualified to teach about it, but it gives us abilities. Blocking bullets, protecting us from temperature extremes, why, I wager that it would protect me for a time in space itself.”

“I’m assuming you don’t want to test that.” Shepard murmured, chuckling when she straightened, brace in hand, and shook her head. “Rhetorical question.”

“So I figured, Ma’am.” She nodded, laying her greave on the table and smiling pleasantly as their eyes landed on it. After a moment, seeing it not doing anything, they turned their gazes back on her, “As I was saying, the gist beyond the defensive capabilities is increased physical acuity. Speed, stamina, strength, etcetera, Penny and I outpace any normal Human I have met yet. Such is the strength Aura gives even a semi-trained Huntress.” 

“Hence the leaping and flipping we’ve seen you doing.” Miranda guessed, “And you fighting that Battlemaster in melee.”

“Yes. I and Penny are more durable and physically powerful than any regular human being in the galaxy.” Or at least, so she’d seen in her time here, watching the Humans she met. Only a few races matched their prowess, and only one or two of the physical attributes they excelled at. Krogan held great strength, for instance, but lacked her fine agility. “With our Aura comes what are called Semblances,” she flicked a finger and that set her armor spinning on the table, sliding across it to the Commander and then returning, like a spinning top toy, “such as mine. Polarity. I can control metal.”

“Impressive.” The Commander murmured, nodding consideringly. “I saw what you did to the metal flooring in Garrus’ base. Can you do that to any metal?”

“So long as I make physical contact with it, yes.” An important, if typically easily navigated, pitfall of her Semblance. Melee combat made ‘physical contact’ easy to achieve, after all. Moving on and hoping to head off any uncomfortable inquiries, she explained, “Auras and Semblances aren’t an exact science, though. Where I come from, decades of education are required for most to fully understand their own abilities. My own took from the time I was little until I was around ten, and I am considered a prodigy. Yet even now I don’t know the fuller extent of my abilities.”

“Impressive.” The Commander murmured, clearly processing what she was hearing as best she could. Chewing a lip, she turned an eye on the small android and asked, “Are those energy blasts your Semblance then?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” The android answered simply, holding up a hand and smiling as green light sparked from her fingertips. “Using certain aspects of my body I won’t go into for privacy reasons, I can produce and focus my Aura into concentrated energy. I can then store this power for later use, fuelling my weaponry.” With a small frown, she sighed and offered a more tired smile, “Using so much to destroy that aircraft has rather drained me, now that I think about it.”

“Are you alright?” Lawson asked, “Do you need the doctor?”

“No, do not be worried, it is nothing of the sort.” Penny smiled brightly, fatigue seemingly gone inside the same moment. Bouncing on her heels, she assured them, “All I need is food, rest and time to recharge my purely proverbial batteries.”

“Speaking of, we should like a place to rest.” Both to not give away any more secrets, and to genuinely rest. She’d used much of her energy up binding Garm the way she had, and in the battle previous. Still, though, she added politely, “Unless you need more from us, Ma’am?”

“You look Human enough, regardless of these rather… Unique, shall we say, abilities of yours.” Miranda answered when the Commander shrugged them off, apparently satisfied for the moment and either content with their answers or content to ask more later. Regardless, the other woman was eager to step in before the two others could vanish. “You are Human, no?”

“We are.” Sort of, at least. “And I know what you are getting at. Before I even consider unlocking people’s Auras, I would need to know them better than I know any of you.”

“Why’s that?” Shepard asked, one brown rising on her scarred forehead with the question. 

“Aura is the manifestation of the soul. Of your mind, body, and all which makes up what is you.” She preambled, explaining as best she could what she’d been taught growing up, by professors and priests alike. From them came the amalgam, which she put forward as her understanding of the matter. “To activate another’s Aura, you must give them a piece of your own. A small piece, that is, but…”

“It’s intimate.” Penny, of all people, stepped in to explain when she saw Pyrrha’s unsurety and hesitance. Quiet, almost reverent even which made some sense given her unique status, the gynoid went on, “A teacher to his pupil, a brother to a sister. Partners at Academies, who will live together for years and, in all likelihood, die in the same place. A father and a daughter, even.”

“I wouldn’t give so deeply of myself to anyone like that without knowing them well, or knowing well that I would be with them for a long time.” Her thoughts drifted to Jaune, with that. And, bitterly, she realized she had been wrong in the assumption of how long she’d have to get to know him to justify her giving him that. “You are free to dislike our decisions, but I would ask you respect them.”

“Of course.” Shepard grunted, giving Miranda a look that dared her to disagree. When she didn’t, the woman turned her gaze back on them, “Both of you are free to go wherever you like. If you want to stay together, I recommend the observation decks. Pick one, settle in, get some rest. I’m putting you on Biotic ration levels as well, so you can be damn sure to have your energy up.”

Relieved that they had no more questions, and hadn’t asked any particularly awkward ones in the first place, the Mistralian retrieved her greave and smiled, “Thank you, Ma’am. Let us know if you need anything.”

The woman only grunted and nodded, waving for them to leave.

XxX----XxX----XxX

Jane watched the woman’s back round a corner and vanish behind the sealed bulkhead, which glowed an angry ‘locked’ red at their exit. Sighing, the woman pushed off the wall and asked, “EDI, did you detect anything interesting?”

“I detected an elevated heart rate from Miss Nikos at various intervals whenever she discussed or alluded to her abilities, those of her companions, or applications beyond themselves.” The machine answered, little blue avatar sparking to life on the long table. “Oddly, I detected no significant energy signatures from them, though that could simply be due to their exhaustion. Further, Miss Penny did not have a heartbeat which I could discern, and I detected extensive artificiality throughout her body.”

“A robot of some kind?” Miranda guessed, giving her a sidelong look. “An AI maybe?”

“More intrusive scans would be needed to determine such, and if they wish to keep her, forgive the term, race a private matter then I doubt they would cooperate. Further, with their abilities, forcing it on them would be… Dangerous.” The ship AI answered mechanically, adding after a second, “Especially inside a metal ship.”

“She could rip it into pieces with a flick of her wrist, possibly.” Shepard didn’t bother trying to argue with Miranda, even if she kind of wanted to. She was easy to dislike, so she did, but they didn’t really know what the Amazonian woman was capable of. “EDI, do you have any records of Aura, or people on planets with anything like these abilities?”

“I do not.”

“A long shot, but…”

“Had to ask, yeah, I get it.” Shepard agreed, sighing and pinching the bridge of her nose and then wincing when that hurt a scar on her face. Pushing off the wall and ignoring the little lances of pain from a thousand still-healing injuries, injuries that thankfully didn’t hurt as much as they had even the day before, she began to give out her orders. “For now, we put it to rest. Let ‘em come to us and volunteer information if they want to, but don’t push them for a damn thing. Not their tech, not their abilities, not their home.”

“I’ll look into their descriptions and try to find a background at least.” Miranda suggested by way of stating, giving her a raised brow to show the question. She nodded simply and the woman returned it, speaking to the machine after, “EDI, do deep information dredging for the terms they used. I’ll do the same. Cerberus has to have something on this nonsense, even if I wasn’t privy to it before now.”

“Understood.” The machine responded, winking out after.

“I’m getting some food and then some sleep.” Jane grunted simply, pushing off the wall and heading for the door. Waving a hand over her shoulder as she went, she called back, “Have fun with the digging.”

Miranda, still wary after her challenges earlier no doubt, didn’t answer beyond a simple, “Aye.”

XxX----XxX----XxX

The observation deck they were lead to by a polite young crewman was nice enough, Pyrrha supposed. Empty, mostly, with seats lining the wall to either side of and across from a great window that looked out on the void. A pair of nice, comfortable enough cots were swiftly delivered to them alongside a crate of spare uniforms to wear - for more comfort than armor might allow, she supposed, though she was rather used to her medium Mistrali plate and leather - and a table to eat at if they didn’t feel a need or desire to eat with the others. A couple hours later and plates heaped with roasted pork and potatoes were delivered, as well as a small box of baked rolls.

‘Biotic rations’ meant ‘stuffing you with calories’ apparently, which was all well and good. A Huntress’ diet was rather calorie and protein heavy.

They set up their cots on one side, pressed against each other and the edge of the hull, and the table on the other side. Their storage crates, where she left her armor once she’d stripped out of and cleaned it a bit, she left stored under the bulkhead-touching bunk, where it was safe and within easy reach. Together, they set the table on the other side and ate, the android girl excited to get to eat - and of course, taste - food as she always was.

“They let us get away too easily.” Pyrrha murmured once they had mostly finished eating, putting voice to the nagging doubt she’d felt for the last hour or so since their ‘debriefing’. Which she was fairly sure wasn’t a real debriefing, though such was the least of her worries, really, for the moment. “Too few answers, too few questions as well, and they didn’t challenge any of what we did say.”

“Maybe they just wanted to offer us some trust.” Penny offered quietly, dipping her last roll in the dry mashed potatoes and smiling excitedly for the prospect. Even rather bad food, it seemed, was enough to make her happy… “I am just happy that they were so willing to believe us and welcome us aboard.”

“I suppose I should feel the same, really.” Though, somewhat to her shame, she still didn’t. Something felt off about the whole situation, even if she couldn’t place it to save her life. Pushing it aside she stood, dusting her hands off and asking, “Could you run the trash and dishes to the eatery tonight? I’ll take my turn next time, but I am tired.”

“Okay and goodnight, Friend Pyrrha!” The girl nodded, happy to be of help as always. Hopping up, she started collecting the assorted rubbish while Pyrrha dragged their beds apart and fell into hers, her back to the door and forehead against the soothingly cool metal. 

No sooner than she felt sleep take her did she feel the now-familiar tug of her mind - or body, she had no idea how any of this god business worked, really - as she was summoned. Instead of the cool air of a world at night as she was used to, though, she felt… Warmth. Mixed with a scent of soil, fresh water and vibrant flowers. Opening her eyes she found herself in a small cave, just big enough for her to lay in comfortably, and sighed.

“Never a night’s rest…” She murmured, anxious and frustrated for the anxiety as she crawled out and stood in the sun. 

Outside, the sun was warm, the sky was a deep and vibrant blue, and a deer, of all things, was wandering by her, idly looking at her and flicking its ears. It sipped at the wide lake beside the mountain her cave had grown beside and then bounded away, satisfied and unwilling to risk what it didn’t know. She watched it recede for a moment before walking to the water and kneeling to let her fingers trail through the frankly impossibly clear water.

This was definitely not the Dark Brother’s making…

“Ah, my brother’s champion.” A bright, booming voice called from above her as a great shadow overtook her. Turning, she was met by nothing but wind slamming into her as the form landed in the water. Turning again, she found a great dragon, curled in the cool water and towering over her like a coiled snake might a mouse. It bowed its great head, though, instead of eating her, and rumbled, “It is good to finally meet you in a more… Appropriate and heartening setting.”

“Indeed.” She murmured, looking up into the silver eyes and smiling, serpentine mouth of the God of Light. Swallowing anxiously, she asked, “Though I… Wonder how I came to be here. And why, of course.”

“I summoned you is the how of it.” The deific beast answered, sounding amused at something she couldn’t understand. In an oddly paternal, bemused sort of voice, he - or it, maybe, again with the deity based things she didn’t know - went on, “And as to the why of it… Well, I wished to speak with you, after some time and consideration.”

“Consideration about…?”

“You and your young compatriot’s fates, and… Status, under my rather grim veneered sibling.” The great being answered, body shimmering for a second before growing so bright that her eyes ached and she was forced to close them. When they reopened, the draconic frame had been replaced by the luminescent ‘human’ body, sitting in the water like a monk at rest. Leaning forward, the being asked, “Are you truly happy in your new world, young champion?”

“I… Gods.” She stepped back, unsure and wincing at the sheer brightness of the god. He noticed this and leaned back and away, raising a hand and dimming his brightness. 

“Forgive me. I created this place and my luminescence shines brightest here, in my home.” The god explained, sounding… Sorrowful as he did. “You grew without my light and warmth on your world, and so cannot bear it.”

“I see.” She kept to herself the comment that he could choose to go back at any time. Gods knew the people could use gods to protect them… Though she didn’t know that forced subservience was a better life for them. Regardless, “To your question, whether I am happy or not, I don’t have much of a choice. Now do I?”

“I could return you to the afterlife-”

“I am quite happy alive, thank you very much.” She cut the being off, earning a cocked head and the slightest narrowing of his eyes. She flinched, but now was not the time to back down. “I have the chance to protect people and atone for what I did to Penny, accidental as it may have been. Her blood is yet on my hands, and not cleansed simply because her murder didn’t stick.”

“You know not what this world’s fate is…”

“Our ends and futures are not ours to know.” She answered simply, shrugging slightly and stepping back further, into the cool shade of the mountain overhead. “I am content with mine. I died on my world with honor, and have a chance at a second life here. If I am to die again, then I will again do so with honor.”

“I see… Then perhaps a lesson of a more visual sense will make clear what comes for you. And what I could give to you.” Quietly, he reached out with a hand, and though she tried to retreat she found her legs didn’t move. A long, luminescent finger touched her head and she felt her head fill with heat, like a fever rushing into her.

Then, all she saw was blackness, inky and expansive around her like nothing she had ever seen. Turning to her left, she could see the beauty of stars, swirling in a mass beyond her comprehension impossibly far away. Like paint swirled around a drain, flecked with glitter and beauty the likes of which made her want to cry for seeing it. Was that…

“The galaxy you are currently residing within.” The Brother of Light answered, voice detached and echoing around her. It throbbed within her head as well and she winced, though the discomfort was only slight. The Brother ignored it, though, moving on, “Not your home, to say the least. Not a place you were made to occupy. And one doomed to a cycle of destruction that none have been able to stop in so long as for its beginning to have escaped my own memory.”

At his direction, or she assumed that was the pressure she felt turning her, like a great hand around her. Facing away from that galaxy, now, she could see the distant specks of more. A faintly ethereal finger and hand appeared, pointing out one eons away, and the god spoke again to confirm her fears, “That is where your home is. So far away that were I not to fold the nature of the universe itself, and step on far too many toes to mention in the process, I could not move you there with your body. Even if I wished to.”

“Other toes…?”

“There are more figures of our status, or similar, than just the two of us. Other gods, lesser, greater and… Different. But they do not matter, and I strongly suggest you not even consider looking into.” The god answered, brushing the topic aside. And then she was moving, flashing to the side so fast the dots blurred into lines and had she been able, she would have retched. “This is what comes. A force unlike any you, or your surrogate galaxy, have faced in eons. And one the latter has never survived.”

Around her, pinpricks of light were scattered intermittently, moving with languid grace around her. A moment passed and she blinked, forms beginning to take shape. Squid like almost and truly massive, cruising by like a fish might through the ocean. Undulating ever so slightly and, in the distance, she saw towards what. The God’s influence allowed her to see it well enough, glowing blue and silver in the inky blackness of empty space.

“What in the name of the Grimm…”

“Swearing by the Grimm now are we? Hah.” She blinked and she was back in the garden, laid on her back and staring up at the tree canopies around them. Her back felt cool and she turned her head, finding that she was laying atop the pool of water’s surface. Not floating, but laying, impossible as it seemed. Above her, the god stood, staring down on her with his hands over his chest. “Those machines bare many names across uncounted and uncountable species and eons. To you, they will likely carry the name ‘Reapers’.”

“The Reapers…?” She murmured, rolling over and, anxiety filled for her mind’s inability to comprehend it, pushing herself up on hands and knees on the water’s surface. Below her, a turtle’s head poked through the surface, so close she could smell it, and then bobbed back down when it saw her.

“Indeed.” The God rumbled as she rose, standing shakily on the water and meeting his gaze. “The Reapers. And inside a handful of years, they will have reached your new home. And it will burn, as it has countless times.”

“I thought you couldn’t see the future?” The Dark Brother had implied as such, at the least.

“We can’t.” Light confirmed, “But we can see the past.” His gaze turned vacant, if that were possible for one without eyes, and he murmured. “I see a number of years for which a number does not exist of this Cycle. And casualties, which are so high that even I can’t comprehend them.”

“Oh…” Those sorts of numbers even existing was something that made her feel small.

“If you ask it, I can take you from this doomed galaxy.” The god murmured, kneeling before her like a parent might a child. “If you were to ask I would even return you to your own world. Albeit in a new body.”

“You mean-”

“Reincarnation.” He nodded, smiling in the way of someone pitying something much smaller than her. A way that rankled her, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “I would only grant you one reincarnation. A rebirth, with your memories intact, to live anew. You would even be able to recontact your lost friends, after a time, one you were-”

“No.”

“-old enough to…” The deity blinked, taken aback, and cocked its head to the side. “I’m… Sorry, what did you say?”

“I said no.” She reiterated simply, stepping back from Light yet again, onto the banks of the water. Mouth set into a firm line, she shook her head and took a deep breath. “I have no desire to abandon a galaxy to live a life as an infant for my chance - chance even, not a certainty - of seeing my friends again. Your warning is appreciated, but… But, and I am sorry, but you can- You can fuck off if you think I will turn my back on a galaxy that needs my help.”

For a long moment, silence stretched around them. 

“Do you truly think you, a single insignificant little Human girl, can halt the progress of a cycle which has existed for millennia? And you would spurn my kindness so blatantly? The arrogance of it...” The being rumbled, heat baking the area as he rose to his full, great height. “A child, as I knew, but one without temperament.”

She could tell he was furious, though his form betrayed nothing. Around her, though, heat began to spread. The lake began to steam and, further out, she began to sweat and the trees began to move with wind suddenly kicked up by the change in temperature. Thunder rolled distantly and the being sighed, sinking into the water, steam spindling up around him.

“Children of ill temperament deserve rebuke.” The god intoned simply, taking a long stride to her, reaching out. Again, she tried to move and found herself undable.

Instead, she closed her eyes and began to pray, as great yellow fingers closed around her, burning where they made contact. “Oh Brother Dark, please heed my call. Your servant calls on your salvation and-”

“YOU DARE, BROTHER MINE!” A voice boomed, the Mistralian feeling herself suddenly lifted and then flung through the air. 

With a cry, she sat up in her bed, sweating and chest heaving. Around her was only darkness and silence, the lights dimmed and even Penny asleep in her bunk, curled into a tight little ball and swaddled in blankets. Taking a deep breath she winced, reaching up to touch at her shoulder gingerly. It was sore and hot to the touch and, as she turned so the little light available could let her see the skin her string-topped sleeping shirt left bare.

It was red, like it had been burnt after a long day in the sun.

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This story is back, ladies and gentle-nerds! And yes, that means I have to relearn how to write dialogue for Pyrrha and Penny both. Figured I would come in strong on the first chapter back, though, so hope you enjoyed~!

XxX----XxX----XxX

Thermidor : 

Thank Espa, not me. XD

Blaiseingfire :

Oh yeah. I know. I mean, Pyrrha doesn’t. But ooooh boy, I do. And it’s super intentional, too.

Steelrain :

There’s a war on with how many bombshells are dropping.


End file.
